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THE 
RECKONING 

BY 
B.L. C. GRIFFITH 




THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
PHILADELPHIA 



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The Penn Publishing: Company 

923 Arch Street, Philadelphia 



THE RECKONING 



warn 



A Drama in Four Acts 



BY 



B. L. C. GRIFFITH 

Author of " BETWEEN THE ACTS," " PRO 
TEM." etc. 




PHILADELPHIA 
THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1910 






Copyright 1910 by The Pknn Publishing Company 



The Reckoning 



Ages 

50 
55 
30 
21 
60 

45 



45- 
20. 

50- 
28. 



The Reckoning 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 



Nicholas Hopper . A wealthy carpet manufacturer 
Joseph Skinner . . . ... His busuiess agefit 

John Armstead A lawyer 

Henry Stratton Hopper's nephew 

Dr. VVm. McLain . The physician at Hopper ton 
Robert Andrews A poor tnan living in Hopper ton 

Jerry Hopper's mafi servant 

Barney Armstead' s man servant 

Miss Sarah Hopper . Sister of Nicholas Hopper 

Margaret Hopper Her daughter 

Mrs. Henderson . . A poor woman living in 

Hopperton 
Mrs. King Her daughter 



Note. — Jerry and Barney may be doubled, and so 
may Stratton and Skinner, if desired. 



Time of Representation : — Three hours. 



A month is supposed to intervene between Acts I and II ; 
two weeks between Acts II and III ; and eighteen hours 
between Acts III and IV. 



COSTUMES 

Hopper. Summer costume of well-dressed business man ; 

same suit throughout, if desired. 
Skinner. Well dressed. Business summer suit, a little 

loud in style, bright colored tie, etc. May double 

with Stratton. 
Armstead. Well dressed. Business suit, quiet in color 

and style. May wear same summer suit throughout. 

Hat and cane in Acts I, II and IV. 
Stratton. Same as Armstead. May double with Skin- 

NER. Straw hat in Act ill. 
Dr. McLain. Dignified dress of professional man ; high 

hat, glasses. Gray hair, and gray moustache or beard 

if desired. 
Andrews. Shabbily dressed, but dressed a little better in 

later acts than in Act I. 
Jerry. Servant's costume or livery. May double Barney 

by slight change in costume and make-up of face. 

Jerry a well- trained Irish servant. 
Barney. Servant's costume. May double Jerry. 

Barney is a green Irishman. 
Miss Sarah Hopper. Quiet gray dress. Gray hair, 

glasses, etc. 
Margaret and Mrs. King. Handsome summer dresses, 

hats, parasols, etc. Margaret dresses more simply 

than Mrs. King. 
Mrs. Henderson. Neatly, but very plainly dressed. 

Gray hair. 



PROPERTIES 



Act I. — For Hopper, packet of letters, sealed note, letter- 
opener, call- bell, pen, ink, paper, envelope, papers to 
represent documents, photographs. For Jerry, card- 
plaie and card. 

Act II. — For Miss Sarah, basket and fruit. For Mrs. 
Henderson, letter, and pillow or cushion. For 
Doctor, watch. For Hopper, folded paper. 

4 



PROPERTIES 

Act III. — For Armstead, watch, sealed letter, telegraph 
blank, check-book. For Andrews, large envelope, 
pen, ink, paper. For Skinner, telegram. For Strat- 
TON, pen, ink, paper. 

Act IV. — For Jerky, feather-duster, waste paper basket, 
and telegram. For Hopper, watch, telegraph blanks, 
revolver, box of cartridges, check-book. For Arm- 
stead, folded paper. 



STAGE DIRECTIONS 

The player is supposed to face the audience, r. means 
player's right; L., his left; c, centre; R. C, right of 
centre; l. c, left of centre. 



SCENE PLOTS 
Act I 



CAfifOCOAPE Ofi PLA/f^MOf* 




Room in Mr. Hopper's residence, New York City, 
Doors R. and l. Window in centre of flat. Landscape or 
plain drop. Table and chairs c. Arm-chair near table, l. 
Other chairs and handsome library furnishings as desired, 

5 



SCENE PLOTS 



Act II 



l.ANO<SCAP£ DROP 




Mrs. Henderson's residence, Hopperton. Door r., 
window in flat r., door in flat l. Landscape drop. 
Table and chairs c. Sofa down r. Plainly furnished 
room. 



Act III 



LANDSCAPE DROP 




Room in Armstead's residence, New York. Doorc. (in 
flat). Windows r. and L. (in flat). Landscape drop. 
Fireplace and table and chairs L. Other furnishings of a 
handsome character, as desired. 

6 



SCENE PLOTS 



Act IV 



ZAAU>SCAPS OfiOP> 











Room in Mr. Hopper's residence, Hopperton. Doors 
R. and L, and c. (in flat). Windows R. and l. (in flat). 
Table and chairs l. c. Armchair r. c. Sofa down R. 
Other furnishings of a handsome character, as desired. 



The Reckoning 



ACT I 

SCENE. — The library in Nicholas Hopper's New York 

residence. 

(^Enter Hopper, r.) 

Hopper. Yes, I must raise money somehow, even if I am 
compelled to borrow. I am beginning to think that I 
was very foolish ever to have attempted to corner the 
cotton market ; and yet if I can corner it, I shall make 
a fortune. (Henry Stratton ^//<?^r^L. Graciously.) 
Walk in, Henry ; walk in and take a seat. 

< 
{Enter Henry, l.) 

Henry. I do not wish to take your time, sir, but 

Hopper (Jjiterrupiifig). Don't mention it, my boy. If I 

can be of any service to you, I think I can manage to 

spare a few minutes. (^Sits at table c, and takes up a 

bundle of letters J) You won't object to my opening 

these letters, will you? 
Henry. I — 1 fear I am disturbing you, sir. 
Hopper. Not at all, I assure you. I simply wish to occupy 

my hands; but my attention is all yours. 
Henry. You are very kind. {Sits. A pause.) 
Hopper {opening letters). Well — what can I do for you? 
Henry {hesitatingly). I — I thought perhaps you — you 

might be willing to help me, sir 

Hopper {encouragins^ly). Yes? Go on. 

Henry. I feel greatly ashamed to ask for — for help again, 

sir, but I — I need money very badly to settle some — 

some {Hesitates.) 

Hopper. Debts? 

Henry. Yes, sir. You see, I — I have lost .some money. 

9 



THE BECKONING 

Hopper {sympathetically). Lost it ? Too bad. 

Henry, i — I lost it at cards, sir. 

Hopper {quietly). I am very glad to hear it, Henry. 

Henry {surprised). Sir? 

Hopper. If you persist in gambling, I am glad you lose. 

Henry. But, Uncle, you do not understand. 

Hopper. Yes — I think I do. This is the second time you 
have come to me for money for such a purpose, I 
believe. 

Henry. Yes, sir ; the first time 

Hopper {interrupting). The first time I gave it to you. 
We had a little talk upon the subject then, and as I 
thought came to a complete understanding. But it 
appears that my words had absolutely no effect. 

Henry {quickly). No, no. Uncle; do not say that. You 
know that you have great influence with me 

Hopper. Your actions do not show it. Henry, my boy, 
when your father died I felt that 1 had a duty to per- 
form. ' I have kept you ; I clothe you ; I feed you. 
You have had every opportunity for fitting yourself to 
become a useful member of society. You have lacked 
nothing. 

Henry. Yes, Uncle — one thing. 

Hopper. Nothing, Henry. 

Henry. 1 have never had money to call my own. 

Hopper. Money? You have not needed it. 

Henry. Often, sir. Not for the necessaries of life, per- 
haps ; but there have been many times — ever since I 
was a boy — when I have felt unable to share the pleas- 
ures of my companions 

Hopper. ^ Yes, I never encouraged you. I certainly would 
have been neglecting my duty if I had placed in your 
hands what would have led you into temptation. 

Henry. But I have been denied all innocent amusements 
— everything. My acquaintances have thought me 
stingy and mean, because I could not return their little 
gifts and kindnesses. That's what drove me to 
gambling. Uncle. 

Hopper. Nonsense. 

Henry. You cannot feel as I do, sir. {Rises.) 

Hopper. About gambling — no. I have endeavored to 
lead an upright life — to do my duty by my fellow 
man. The money I have accumulated has been 

lO 



THE liECKONINO 

gained through my own individual efforts, and I value 
it and my reputation too highly to risk either on the 
turn of a card. (^Rises and becomes more and tnore 
indignant.^ But you — you seem to care nothing for 
your reputation or for mine. 

Henry. Oh, Uncle ! 

Hopper. You have no money of your own to squander, 
so you pile up debts, expecting me to pay them". Why, 
it is ungrateful in you, Henry ! 

Henry. No, no, sir. 

Hopper. Yes, ungrateful. It shows a lack of appreciation 
of all that I have done for you. If you wish money, 
why don't you earn it? 

Henry. I have hoped, sir, that with your influence you 
could obtain me a situation 

Hopper. No, no, my boy. Don't rely on me — on any- 
body. Depend upon yourself. Seek out some busi- 
ness position where you can have an opportunity to 
rise rapidly. {Takes his hand?) There's always 

room at the top, you know And I shall be proud 

of you, and feel that my efforts in your behalf have not 
been entirely in vain. 

Henry. But, Uncle — my debts? 

Hopper. How much do you owe? 

Henry. About one hundred dollars, sir. 

Hopper. Hum ! Not as bad as I expected. {A slight 
pause.') Well, give your note for the amount — then find 
a situation and pay your debts, with your first two 
months' salary. {Enter Margaret Hopper, r. 
Hesitates in doorway.) Ah, Margaret ! Come in, 
my dear. {Banter ingiy.) Here, this naughty cousin 
of yours has been falling into evil ways again. What 
shall we do with him — eh ? 

Margaret. He hoped that you would help him, father. 

Hopper. So he has been confiding in you, has he ? I 
trust you gave him a thorough lecturing and some sound 
advice. 

Henry. She advised me to come to you, sir. 

Hopper. Indeed ! I am glad she has so much influence 
with you. {Lays his hand on Henry's shoulder.) I 
hope you will always come to me with your troubles, 
my boy. You know the great interest I take in your 
welfare. Now turn over a new leaf, won't you? 

II 



THE RECKONING 

Make a man of yourself. You will excuse me now ? 

I have some important business to attend to. 
Henry. Certainly, sir. 
Hopper. Remember, my boy, I am always glad to help 

you in any way within my power. (Margaret and 

Henry go toward r.) Margaret 1 
Margaret {stopping). Yes, father. 

{Exit Henry, r.) 

Hopper {going to table c. and sitting). Margaret, I have 
been greatly perplexed to know just what is my duty as 
regards Henry's gambling habits. 

Margaret. Harry hoped that you would assist him in pay- 
ing his debts. 

Hopper. And so I have. 

Margaret. You gave him the money? {Eagerly.) 

Hopper. No. But I have helped him in a far better way. 
I have shown him how to be independent. When he 
came to me about two months ago and begged for help, 
I willingly paid his debts; but 1 fear I only encouraged 
him to repeat his misdeeds. 

Margaret. But, father, I am sure Harry is very sorry 

Hopper {interrupting). Perhaps he is ; though he cer- 
tainly does not appear very penitent. But this habit 
of gambling must be stopped before he becomes a 
disgrace. {Enter ]erry^ l., bearing card plate. To 
Jerry.) Some one to see me, Jerry? 

Jerry. Yes, sir. {Presents card plate.) 

Hopper. Ah — you may show the gentleman in here. 

Jerry. Yes, sir. 

{Exity L. Margaret moves toward r. ) 

Hopper. One moment, Margaret. (Margaret stops.) 
There's a little matter of business. You are aware 
that when your grandmother died last spring, she left 
you a considerable sum, about fifty thousand dollars. 

Margaret. Yes, sir. 

Hopper. The estate has been settled, and is ready to be 
divided among the different heirs. What do you in- 
tend to do with your share? 

Margaret. I have not considered the matter at all, sir. 

Hopper, At present it is in the Depositors' National Bank, 

12 



THE RECKONING 

of which I am a stockholder. Would you — would you 
like me to find a good investment for you ? 

Margaret. If you will, please. 

Hopper. Very well. You will be a rich girl some day, my 
dear. I have sometimes feared that the knowledge of 
that fact may have influenced your cousin Henry in his 
professions of love. 

Margaret. Oh, father ! 

Hopper. Such a sum of money would prove a great temp- 
tation, Margaret. 

Margaret {indignantly). Not to Harry. You do him an 
injustice, sir. 

Hopper. 1 hope so, my child. I certainly shall never con- 
sent to your marriage until Henry has established him- 
self in business and can support a wife. {Enter John 
Armstead, l.) Ah, Mr. Armstead, I believe? 

{Rises and goes to meet him.) 

Armstead. Mr. Hopper. 

Hopper. Walk right in, sir {shaking hands with him) ; 

you know my daughter, do you not? 
Armstead. Oh, yes; 1 think 1 can claim Miss Hopper as 

one of my friends. 
Margaret {shaking hands with Armstead). I hope so, 

Mr. Armstead. {Moves toward R.) 
Armstead. I am not driving you away? 
Margaret. Oh, no, — please excuse me. 

{Exit, r.) 

Hopper. Housekeeping duties must be performed, you 
know. Won't you be seated ? {Draws armchair left 
of table c.) You'll find this chair comfortable, I think. 
(Armstead sits left of table c, and Hopper sits right 
of table c.) My daughter has often sung your praises, 
Mr. Armstead, and your face is familiar, but 1 never 
felt that I could claim an acquaintance. 

Armstead. Your name and face are well known to me, 
too, sir, but our occupations have never thrown us to- 
gether. 

Hopper. Yon are in the law ? 

Armstead. Yes. 

Hopper. And a worthy representative, I have no doubt. 
But I have no law case to consult you about to-day. 

13 



THE RECKONING 

Noj it is a matter of business, and business only. You 
say my name is familiar to you ? 

A.RMSTEAD. Quite so. 

Hopper. Well spoken of, I hope? 

Armstead. Very highly. 

Hopper. Good. Yes, my rating is A No. i. I am a car- 
pet manufacturer, as perhaps you know. 

Armstead. 1 understood so. 

Hopper. I make a certain moderately priced line of goods. 
The secret of their manufacture belongs to me alone; 
and although there has been such a great depression in 
business throughout the country, I am thankful to say 
mine has increased instead of diminished. 

Armstead. You are exceedingly fortunate. 

Hopper. Yes; but the credit is entirely due to my 
specialty. Now I find, Mr. Armstead, that if I am to 
fill the orders for my goods, my factories must be con- 
siderably enlarged. That brings me to the cause for 
this interview. I understand that you represent a 
number of capitalists who have placed their money in 
your hands for investment. 

Armstead. It is true that one or two gentlemen have asked 
me to investigate any good investment I may hear of. 

Hopper. Ah ! Well, 1 think I can offer you a first-class 
one. 

Armstead {perplexed). You can ? 

Hopper. Yes. 

Armstead, May I ask in what? 

Hopper. My factories. 

Armstead. I — I fear I do not understand. Do you in- 
tend to form a company? 

Hopper. Oh, no; I've not the slightest idea of such a 
thing. But as I told you, I wish to increase my busi- 
ness, and I would like to — to obtain from — well, say 
seventy to one hundred thousand for say two years — 
perhaps three. 

Armstead. You wish to borrow ? 

Hopper. Well — yes. I suppose you might call it that. 

Armstead (Jiesitatiiig). But — I — I thought — I — I did not 
know 

Hopper {interrupting — laughing). That I was so poor? 
I suppose you wonder why a man who is reputed to be 
quite wealthy should wish to borrow ? 

14 



THE BECKONING 

Armstead. To be candid, sir, it does seem somewhat 
strange. 

Hopper. Not when you understand my position. I have 
a number of securities I can sell, and thus raise the 
amount needed, but the money market is so low just 
now that I would have to sell at a considerable loss. 
Besides, what advantage would there be in sacrificing 
these investments, which pay me a good rate of interest, 
when I can obtain all the money I wish at lower rates ? 

Armstead. What security do you offer ? 

Hopper. Well, I have carefully considered the matter, and 
prefer to give as security some real estate — my factories, 
for instance. 

Armstead {surprised). You wish to mortgage them ? 

Hopper. Yes, 1 believe that is the only word to express 
my meaning. I value my plant at two hundred and 
fifty thousand, in round numbers. Now, if your capi- 
talists would be willing to advance one hundred thou- 
sand at five per cent. {Pauses.) 

Armstead. It's a large sum. 

Hopper. They certainly cannot find a safer investment. 

Armstead. No — but I do not know that they care for a 
mortgage. I will have to consult with them before I 
can take any steps in the matter. 

Hopper. Oh, of course, of course; but — a — may I hear 
from you soon — to-day ? 

Armstead. Oh, yes. Within a few hours, I think. 

Hopper. Good. I leave the city to-night upon a business 
trip. Upon my return, I shall be glad to have you 
come out to Hopperton and see my property. 

Armstead. Very well, sir, if the gentlemen I represent 
care to make such an investment. 

Hopper. In any case we shall be pleased to see you. We 
shall move out there, as usual, in a few weeks. But to 

return to business ( Opens drawer and takes out 

papers.) Here are the deeds and other papers belong- 
ing to my factories. (6^/z;<fi- Armstead /^/^r^-.) Just 
take a look at them. {A pause. Enter Dr. William 
McLain, l.) Why, Dr. McLain ! This is indeed 
a surprise. 

(Shakes hands with him.) 

McLain. A pleasant one, I hope, sir. 

15 



THE RECKONING 

Hopper. How can you doubt it ? 

McLain. I can't. 

HoPPKR (aside). I wonder what he has come for? (To 

McLain.) Sit down and make yourself comfortable, 

and tell me all about the good people of Hopperton. 

But in the first place, what brings you to town ? 
McLain. To see you, sir. (Sits.') How are you ? 
HOPPKR {siiiing). I never felt better. 
McLain. I thought perhaps you had had more trouble 

with your head 

Hopper {quickly and uneasily). Nonsense, man — nonsense. 

Those attacks were only in your fertile imagination. 
McLain. Perhaps so, sir; but you should take good care 

of yourself. 
Hopper. I always do. 
McLain. As 1 told you last fall, when there is too much 

blood in the head, there's danger, under excitement, 

of a vessel bursting, and then 

Hopper (interrupting — startled). Eh ! {Laughs in a 
forced manner.) Ha — ha — ha — you are trying to 

frighten me. But come, confess; what has tempted 

you out of your shell? 
McLain. Well, sir — you are always so kind {hesitating) I 

— I thought perhaps you — that is to say, I wanted to ask 

you if — if you would do something to help a few of the 

families of Hopperton. 
Hopper. Have they no work ? 

McLain. No, sir. They have lost their positions on ac- 
count of sickness, and what little money they had saved 

is now all gone. They are in danger of starving, 

unless 

Hopper {interrupting). Why, this is too bad. I should 

have been notified long ago. We must do something 

immediately. 
McLain. I knew you would help them, sir. You are always 

so generous. 
Hopper. It is my duty. Doctor — a duty to mankind. I 

will authorize you to do whatever is necessary in this 

matter. I shall be glad to pay for- all purchases you 

may make. 
McLain. Thank you, sir. You are very good. 
Hopper {rising as if to end the conversation). Nothing 

else I can do for you ? 

i6 



THE RECKONING 

McLain (rising). Well, sir — there is another matter, but 
1 — I don't wish to take your valuable time. 

Hopper {seeing that Armstead is still engaged examining 
papers). Oh, I can spare a few minutes more, 1 think. 

(Armstead finishes examining papers.) 

McLain. I — I wished to speak to you about Mrs, Hen- 
derson 

Hopper {sharply). Eh ? What of her ? 

McLain {surprised). I refer to the wife of John Hender- 
son — your former manager. 

Hopper {altering his manner). Oh, yes, yes ; of course. 1 
— I misunderstood you. {Indifferently.) She's well, I 
hope. 

McLain. Very poorly, sir, I am sorry to say. {Sits. 
Hopper assumes an attitude of concern.) Her con- 
sumption is gradually becoming more pronounced, and 
1 fear she hasn't many more months of life. 

Hopper. Ah! {Conceals a smile with his hand.) 

McLain. 1 — I beg pardon, sir? 

Hopper. It's a great pity. 

McLain. It is, indeed. Her husband's death was a very 
great shock to her. People always imagined that he 
had saved some money, but she seems to be continually 
in need of help. 

Hopper {somewhat impatiently). And you wish me to 
assist her? 

McLain. Well, sir — I — I thought that if some one — if a 
means could be found to send her away to the moun- 
tains for a while 

Hopper {anxiously). Would she recover ? 

McLain. Not entirely, I fear — but it might lengthen her 
life a year or two, and life seems very dear to her just 
at present. 

Hopper. Why now, more than any other time ? 

McLain. On account of her daughter. 

Hopper {anxiously). Her daughter? 

McLain. Yes ; you know she ran away from home about 
ten years ago, and Mrs. Henderson never heard a word 
of her until last week. 

Hopper {very anxiously). She — she has not returned ? 

McLain. No, sir. But a man who knew the girl before 
she left home — that was when the Hendersons lived up 

17 



THE BECKONINQ 

the Hudson — thinks that he saw her here in New York, 
stepping into a carriage on Fifth Avenue. 

Hopper. That is extremely improbable. 

McLain. Yes ; but Mrs. Henderson appears to believe it, 
and is even anxious to come to the city and begin a 
search. 

Hopper {rising). Nonsense ! Perfect nonsense 1 Such a 
search would be the sheerest folly. The girl is dead 
long ago, I've no doubt. 

McLain. I fear so, sir. (^Rises.^ 

Hopper (returning to his former pleasant manner). Well, 
I am very glad you called, Doctor ; you should come 
oftener. Do whatever you think best as regards the 
poor people you mentioned. Be assured I shall endorse 
your actions. 

McLain. And how about Mrs. Henderson, sir ? 

Hopper. Well, I — I will try to — to make some arrange- 
ment. But you need not mention the fact to her. 

McLain. Very well, sir. 

Hopper. You promise me? 

McLain. Certainly, sir, if you wish it. 

Hopper. I do. I don't ask for praise. I try to do my 
duty ; nothing more. (Shakes hands with him.) 
Well — good-morning. Thank you for coming. 

McLain. Good-bye, sir. 

(^Exity L.) 

Hopper (to Armstead). I am sorry to have taken so 

much of your time, Mr. Armstead. You find those 

papers all right, do you not ? 
Armstead {rising). Perfectly so, I think. I will talk the 

matter over with my friends and let you know the result 

very soon. 
Hopper. Very good. But one moment — I have some 

photographs of my factories and the plans also. You 

might take them along. 
Armstead. I scarcely think they will be necessary, sir. 
Hopper. Not necessary, but they will give some idea of 

the buildings. I think they are in the other room. 

(^Crosses to r.) Just wait a moment. 

(^Exit, R.) 
i8 



THE BECKONING 

Armstead {looking after Hopper). Strange ! Very- 
strange ! What would Wall Street think if it heard 
that Mr. Nicholas Hopper, the wealthy carpet manu- 
facturer, wished to mortgage his factories? {Sits by 
table c. with his back to l. Thoughtfully.^ His credit 
is still first class, beyond a doubt. Yet there seems to 
be something insincere about him — something hidden. 
I scarcely know why I think so. Perhaps it was his 
manner when the Doctor spoke of that poor woman 
whose daughter had left home. 

{Enter Mrs. King, l.) 

Mrs. K. {thinking Armstead to be Hopper). I am sure 
you will pardon me, my dear Mr. Hopper, for entering 

unannounced, but (Armstead rises and turns.) 

John! 

Armstead {starting; then controlling himself). Mrs. 
King ! 

Mrs. K. {stepping toward him impulsively as if to shake 
hands, but stopping ; nervously). I — 1 — it has been a 
long time since — since we have met. 

Armstead {imder constraint). Yes. 

Mrs. K. {after pause). I — I did not expect to find you 
here. 

Armstead. I am here upon business. 

Mrs. K. {recovering her equanimity — laughing merrily). 
I did not question your right. Probably you won- 
der what brings me here? I came upon business 
also. 

Armstead {tender great self-control). Mr. Hopper will 
return presently. 

Mrs. K. I am very glad he was not present to see our 
meeting, John ; he might have imagined that we are 
not friends. {A slight pause.) That was what we 
agreed to be, was it not ? 

Armstead. Yes. 

Mrs. K. You came to me just before my wedding and told 
me that — that you would try to be my friend. Do you 
remember ? 

Armstead. I remember. 

Mrs. K. But you have not acted in a friendly way. I 
have not seen nor heard of you from that day until 

19 



THE RECKONING 

this — not even after Mr. King's death. (^Smiles.) 
You — you used to be a good friend, John. 

Armstead (^b/utitly). Yes ; 1 once asked you to marry me*. 
And do you remember your reply ? 

Mrs. K. Yes, I told you that I — 1 liked you very much 
indeed, but 

Armstead {interruptifig). But that you would never marry 
a pauper — that was about the answer — wasn't it? Yes, 
1 loved you. 

Mrs. K. {smiling). I wonder ! What do you know of 
love ? 

Armstead {with intense earnestness). What do you know 
of love ? 1 brought you mine — the richest gift a man 
can offer — and you laughed at me; I saw you flirting 
with men whose reputations had been dragged through 
the mud ; I saw you marry, for money, an old man 
whom you could never love. 1 endured all this, and 
still I worshipped you. (Mrs. K. laughs iiervously.) 
Oh, I was your slave. You knew you could bend me 
to your slightest wish. Well, 1 have learned since 
then, May. I have had some success, and I have 
learned what is worth while. When I marry, if 1 do, 
my wife will be something more than a flirt or coquette; 
she will be a real woman, true to herself 

Mrs. K. {interrupting — angrily). How dare you speak so ! 
What right have you to judge me ! Why don't you 
say what you think and call me an adventuress? 

Armstead. Because — I 

Mrs. K. {interrupting sarcastically). Because you are a 
gentleman. But you implied it. And you think I 
cared nothing for your love ? 

Armstead. I think you married for money. 

Mrs. K. {defiantly). I did. 

Armstead. Of course your beauty and your power over men 
tempted you to act as you might not otherwise have done. 
You longed for wealth and now you have it without en- 
cumbrance. You are free now to flirt and coquette 
to your heart's content. 

Mrs. K. Is that what you really think of the woman you 
professed to love ? 

Armstead {earnestly). Ah, May, if you had ever truly 
loved, no such judgment could be spoken. Love would 
have completely changed your life. 

20 



THE BECKONING 

'•Something the heart must have to cherish; 
Must love and joy and sorrow learn. 
Something with passion clasp, or perish 
And in itself to ashes burn." 

Mrs. K. {repeating — sadly), "And in itself to ashes 
burn." {Impulsively.) Oh, John, if you could but 
know how 

{Enter Hopper, r.) 

Hopper {not perceiving Mrs. K.). I am sorry to have kept 

you waiting, Mr. Armstead, but {Sees M.RS. K. 

— surprised.) Mrs. King ! 

Mrs. K. {laughing fnerrily). How frightened you are ! 

Hopper. I — I did not know you were here. 

Mrs. K. Oh, I have been here some time. Mr. Armstead 
has been good enough to entertain me. 

Hopper. You know each other ? 

Mrs. K. Oh, yes, indeed — intimately— do we not, Mr. 
Armstead ? 

Armstead {reservedly). I have known Mrs. King for sev- 
eral years. 

Hopper {Jealously). Indeed ! Then i need not have 
made such haste. {To Armstead.) Here are the 
photographs, Mr. Armstead. They were not just where 
I expected to iind them. {Gives him photographs .) 
You will return shortly? 

Armstead. As soon as possible, sir. 

Mrs. K. You are not going to leave us? 

Hopper {anxious that Armstead should go). Business 
calls him, Mrs. King — important business. 

{Exit Armstead, l.) 

Mrs. K. {aside). Not one word of good-bye. {Aloud.) 

What a very interesting man Mr. Armstead is. 
Hopper {Jealously). I must confess he never impressed 

me as being anything extraordinary. 
Mrs. K. Indeed ! Perhaps he has changed since I knew 

him so intimately years ago. 
Hopper {half spitefully). Doubtless it was your influence. 
Mrs. K. (curtsying). You flatter me. 
Hopper. I believe you are acquainted with every man in 

town. 

ax 



THE BECKONING 

Mrs. K. Oh, the green-eyed monster — eh ? 

Hopper. Yes, I am jealous ; I acknowledge it. 

Mrs. K. Don't you think it very foolish ? (Si^s L. c.) 

Hopper. Yes ; for you are utterly heartless. 

Mrs. K. (coyly). Oh, no — not quite. 

Hopper. But you delight to add fuel to my jealousy at 
every possible opportunity. Why do you treat me no 
differently from the way you do other men ? 

Mrs. K. {innocently). Mr. Hopper! Do 1? Well, you 
are different, you know. You're a captain of industry, 
or something like that, aren't you? 

Hopper {impatiently). Bah ! 

Mrs. K. But don't be cross with me, will you? I thought 
you would be glad to see me this morning. 

Hopper. So I am. 

Mrs. K. You seemed very much surprised. 

Hopper {recovering his good humor). I was. 

Mrs. K. But didn't you receive my note? 

Hopper. No. Did you send one ? 

Mrs. K. Of course I did. 

Hopper {hurrying to the table and searching through the 
pile of letterSy some of ivhich he has already opened). 
Ah ! ( Catches up a note and kisses it.) 

Mrs. K. {laughing). Oh, you foolish fellow ! {Rises.) 
Don't read it now, wait until I have gone. I don't 
know what ridiculous things I may have written. 

Hopper. But I 

Mrs. K. {placing her hand upon his arm). Please don't. 
(Hopper puts the letter in his pocket.) That's a good 
boy. I simply said that if you could spare me a few 
minutes this morning. Every one acknowledges you 
an authority upon business matters, you know. 

Hopper. Is that the only reason you came to me? 

Mrs. K. {coyly). I did not say so. 

Hopper {passionately). Oh, you will drive me crazy. 
You know I worship the very ground you tread upon, 
and yet you 

{Enter Margaret, r.) 

Mrs. K. {interrupting — to Margaret). Good-morning, 

Margaret. {Goes to meet her.) 
Margaret {joyfully), Mrs. King ! 

22 



THE BECKONING 

Mrs. K. You see I have remembered my promise to call 

upon you this week. 
Margaret. I knew you would not forget. 
Mrs. K. Where shall we go to have a nice, long talk? 
Margaret. The parlor ? 
Mrs. K. Yes ; we will not disturb your father there. 

{Puts her arm around Margaret, and they move toward r.) 

Hopper. But — but you said you wished to speak to me 

about 

Mrs. K. {interrupting). About a little matter of business. 

After a while — when you are ready to 

Hopper {inter rupti?ig). I am ready now. 
Mrs. K. {pointedly). To talk about business ? 

{Exeunt Margaret and Mrs. K,, r.) 

Hopper. I believe an evil spirit is personified in that 
woman. Sometimes she tortures me so, I feel as if I 
could kill her. And yet — so great is her power over 
me, I would do anything to please her. If only I knew 
that she cares nothing for me — but at times she makes 
me imagine I'm the one and only — well — I'll show her. 
Wait until my cotton deal goes through — and I get my 
yacht. That will fix her. 

{Enter Jerry, l.) 

Jerry. There's a poor woman wants to see you, sir. 
Hopper. I have no time for beggars. Tell her I am busy. 

{Sits by table C.) 

Jerry. But I don't think as she is a beggar, sir, though she 

ain't dressed very 'andsome. She says she knows you, 

sir, an' 

Hopper {interrupting). Nonsense ! Every beggar knows 

me. 
Jerry. Yes, sir ; I — I suppose so. But she says you know 

her, sir. Her name is somethin* like Henson. 
Hopper {rising). Mrs. Henderson ! 
Jerry. That's it, sir. 
Hopper {somewhat agitated). I — I can't see her. Why 

should she come here ? I won't see her. 
Jerey. Very good, sir. {Moves toward u') 

23 



TEE BECKONING 

Hopper {calling). Jerry ! 

Jerry. Yes, sir. 

Hopper (aside). I suppose this will be as good an oppor- 
tunity as any to settle the matter. (^To Jerry.) Jerry 
— perhaps it would be just as well for me to see the 
woman. You may show her here. 

Jerry. Just as you say, sir. (Aside.) He's sort o' 
changeable this mornin'. 

{Exity L.) 

Hopper {sitting). No doubt she has come to demand her 
share of the proceeds from her husband's patent. 
{Laughs.) Let her. I've been expecting it — but she 
won't get anything — not one cent. Perhaps she has 
come to the city to look for her daughter. She'll never 
find her. If 1 have failed after two months' search, she 
certainly cannot succeed. But I wonder why she comes 
to me ? She surely cannot have heard of my efforts to 
find the girl? 

{Enter Mrs. Henderson, l.) 

Hopper {going to meet her). Why, Mrs. Henderson, how 
do you do? You are looking well. 

Mrs. H. Then I don't look as I feel, sir; I fear I shall 
never be well again. 

Hopper. Oh, cheer up ! Cheer up ! Don't be despond- 
ent. Long road that has no turning, you know. You 
will regain your strength before long, I have no doubt. 

Mrs. H. 1 am not despondent, sir. But I fully realize 
my danger. When consumption reaches the stage it 
has with me, there is but little chance of recovery. 

Hopper {aside — sitting). Just as I feared; she is after 
money. {Aloud.) But don't you think you are run- 
ning a great risk of catching cold by coming to the 
city ? 

Mrs. H. Oh, sir, I couldn't help it. I have come to look 
for my daughter, sir. [Sits.) 

Hopper {relieved). Indeed ! {Aside.) Then she isn't 
going to bother me about her husband's patent, after 
all. 

Mrs. H. I have waited ten long weary years for her to 
return, but I have never heard a word from her — not 
one word. 

34 



THE BECKONING 
Hopper (aside). I hope she never will, 

{He nods solemnly to Mrs. H.) 

Mrs. H. Oh, sir, if only you knew how I have hoped and 
prayed during all these years ; how I have looked so 
eagerly for her return day after day ; how 1 have run 
to the door at every knock and opened it only to be 
disappointed. 

Hopper. But your daughter would not return to Hop- 
perton ? 

Mrs. H. No, sir ; she would go to her old home on the 
Hudson. But she will find my address if she goes 
there. 

Hopper. But what reason have you for believing her still 
alive? 

Mrs. H. Oh, sir, I'm sure she can't be dead ! And last 
week, sir, a man who knew her when she was but a girl, 
told me he saw her here in New York. 

Hopper. It was probably but a resemblance. 

Mrs. H. But she i)asse(l right beside him, sir, and got into 
a carriage. I feel sure he was not mistaken, for he de- 
scribed her so exactly. {Beseechingly.) Oh, please, 
sir, do try to believe it. It means so much to me. I 
have come all the way to the city to ask for your help. 

Hopper. My help ! 

Mrs. H. You seem so kind to every one, I thought you 
would be willing to 



Hopper {interrupting^). But, my good woman 

Mrs. H. {interrupting and rising). Oh, don't refuse, I 

beg of you. I know of no one but you who can help 

me. 
Hopper. I — I should be very glad to render any assistance 

within my power if — if 1 knew of any way 

Mrs. H. {interrupting). Find my daughter, sir ! 
Hopper. Find her? How? You must see that to make 

a search among several million people, without even 

being sure that she is alive, would be just throwing 

time and money away. 
Mrs. H. But I must find her. Oh, what shall I do! 

{Impulsively.) Will you lend me money, sir? 
Hupper. Lend ? Impossible. 
Mrs. H. I promise to repay you. 

25 



TEE BECKONING 

Hopper. But my dear woman, I never lend under any cir- 
cumstances. It is against my principles. 

Mrs. H. {hesitating). But — but, sir, have you not some 
money which — belongs to me ? 

Hopper. I owe you money ? 

Mrs. H. I — I would not have mentioned it, if — if I had 
not been in such great need. 

Hopper {with dignity). To what do you refer ? 

Mrs. H. I — I thought, sir — my husband often told me 
before his death that he had invented a kind of carpet 
while lie was manager of your factories — the kind you 
sell now, — and that you agreed to pay him something 
on every yard manufactured. You signed a paper. 

Hopper. Oh, you must be mistaken ; your husband never 
could have made such a statement. 

Mrs. H. Yes, indeed he did, sir. He said he had a writ- 
ten agreement. 

Hopper {very uneasily). Eh! You have it? 

Mrs. H. My husband told me he had hidden the paper 
away safely and that I would find it after his death. 

Hopper {anxiously). And you have found something you 
thought was 

Mrs. H. No, sir, but 



Hopper {interrupting — angrily). Then what nonsense to 
come to me with such a statement. The idea of my 
signing a paper of that kind. 

Mrs. H. But surely, sir, you remember 

Hopper {interrupting). I remember nothing of the sort. 
I owe you money, indeed ! Why, you occupy a house 
belonging to me, and haven't paid your last month's 
rent. This is simply a device of yours to obtain money. 

Mrs. H. Oh, sir, I 

Hopper {interrupting). Yes, and I believe your pitiful 
plea for help to find your daughter is nothing but a 
begging scheme. Your daughter is dead, and you 
know it. 

Mrs. H. {bursting into tears). Oh ! 

Hopper. Now you needn't pretend to cry. It won't have 
any effect upon me. {Enter Joseph Skinner, l.) 
You can go now. And don't come to me with your 
begging lies again, do you understand ? 

{Exit Mrs. H., l., sobbing.) 
26 



THE BECKONINQ 

Skinner {chuckling). You seem to have moved the lady 
to tears. 

Hopper. She's a beggar, nothing more. What's the news? 

Skinner. He has returned. 

Hopper. Andrews ? 

Skinner. Right. 

Hopper. Where is he? 

Skinner. At the office, sir. 

Hopper. Fetch him. 

Skinner. I left word that if you wished to see him, I 
would 'phone. 

Hopper. Very well. Step into the hall and do so. 

Skinner. Right. 

Hopper. And tell Jerry to show the man here as soon as 
he comes. (^Exit Skinner, l.) Now I shall learn if 
the search of the past week has proved any more suc- 
cessful than the former ones. If the daughter be dead, 
then I have nothing to fear, for even should that agree- 
ment be found, what could the woman do ? {Sits by 
table c.) But in any case, perhaps it will be just as 
well to see Mrs. Henderson after 1 return from my busi- 
ness trip and pay her something to sign off. I'll do 
it. (^Laughs.') 

{Enter Skinner, l.) 

Skinner. He'll be here directly, sir. 

Hopper. We have a iew minutes. What's new in cotton? 

Skinner. The market is bullish. (Sits.') 

Hopper. That's good. 

Skinner. But I heard to-day of another lot. I don't 

understand it. 
Hopper (angrily). But you ought to understand it. It's 

your business to understand it. 
Skinner. No doubt, no doubt. 
Hopper. I have placed the matter entirely in your hands, 

and you should have known just how much cotton was 

in the market before advising me to buy. 
Skinner. 1 thought I did. 
Hopper. That is no excuse. You shouldn't have thought. 

When you came to me six months ago 

Skinner (^interrupting). Seven, sir. 

Hopper. It makes no difference. When you told me that 

the cotton crop was unusually small this season, and 

27 



THE BECKONING 

advised tne to corner the market, I consented because 

1 thought that you had carefully studied the situation. 
Skinner. So 1 had. 
Hopper. Then it was time wasted, for you appear to know 

nothing. {Passionately.) By heaven! man, do you 

know that I had to give my notes for the last three lots? 
Skinner. No doubt, no doubt. 
Hopper. They fall due in six weeks. If I can't meet 

them, do you know what will be the consequence? 
Skinner. 1 can guess. 
Hopper {vehemently). But I shall meet them. The money 

will be raised in some way. This new lot you have 

heard of — who holds it ? 
Skinner. Smith & Co. 

Hopper. They seem to have it all. Is it a large one? 
Skinner. Not very. 
Hopper. What will buy it? 
Skinner. About fifty. 
Hopper. Fifty thousand ! {A pause.) 
Skinner. You will take it? 
Hopper. I suppose 1 shall have to. 
Skinner. Right. 
Hopper {aside). I must raise it, even if I have to mortgage 

the house. 
Skinner. 1 think you have all the cotton in the country — 

a — a — unless Smith & Co. have another lot. 
Hopper. If they have I can't buy it. 
Skinner. It won't maiit-r if ihe lot should be a small one. 

Hopper. No; but if it should be large 

Skinner. Then the bottom would fall out of your corner 

in cotton. 
Hopper. And I should be ruined. 
Skinner. You know best about that. 

{Enter Robert Andrews, l.) 

Andrews. Mr. Hopper, sir 

Hopper. Come in, Andrews. (7"^ Skinner.) Mr. Skin- 

nt-r, if you will entertain yourself in the sitting-room a 

^*i\\ minutes 

Skinner. Certainly, sir. 

Hopper. I wish to see you about another matter before 

you leave. 
Skinner. Right. 

28 



THE BECKONING 
{^Exitf R.) 

Hopper. Well, my man, what luck? 

Andrews {siuing). Very little, sir. 

Hopper. You have found nothing ? 

Andrews. Nothin' that can be depended on, sir. 

Hopper. Have you been up the Hudson, as I directed? 

Andrews. Yes, sir. The farmers in the neighborhood 
remember the Henderson family quite well, an' told 
me how the daughter run away from home. They say 
John Henderson an' his wife was all broke up over it, 
an' they moved away from that part of the country 
about eight years ago. That's when they come to 
Hopperton, sir. 

Hopper. But could you learn nothing about the girl after 
she left home ? 

Andrews. I hear she come here to New York. 

Hopper. Hum ! But you have heard nothing to make 
you believe that she is siill alive? 

Andrews. Nothin' sure. 

Hopper. I scarcely thought you would. No doubt the 
girl is dead long ago. But you may continue the search 
here in the city until further notice. 

Andrews. Yes, sir. 

Hopper. By the way, you have never told any one that 
you are making this search ? 

Andrews. No, sir. 

Hopper. Good. See that you don't — not even your 
wife. Another thing ; Mrs. Henderson will probably 
move in a month or two from the house she now occu- 
pies; how would you like to take it? 

Andrews. I — I — it's much larger than the one we have, 
sir. 

Hopper. And you think the rent will be too high ? No, I 
will make it the same as you pay now. 

Andrews. You are very good, sir. 

Hopper. When you move in, I want you to — to make a 
thorough search of the premises, and bring to me all 
the papers you may find. 

Andrews Qiesitatin^^. But — but, sir, suppose they belong 
to Mrs. Henderson ? 

Hopper. Bring them to me. They are sure to be mine, 
anyway. 

29 



THE BECKONING 

Andrews. Mrs. Henderson was very kind to my wife when 
she was sick, and 1 don't want to do nolhin' to 

Hopper {ifiterruptitig). Andrews, whose employ are you 
in, mine or Mrs. Henderson's? 

Andrev/s. Yours, sir, but 

Hopper (interrupting). Very well. While you are in my 
employ 1 expect you to do as 1 tell you. Whose clothes 
are those you are wearing? 

Andrews. You bought 'em, sir. 

Hopper. You remember the rags you wore two months 
ago? 

Andrews. Far too well, sir. 

Hopper. You came to me and begged for work, stating 
that your wife was sick, and that you were heavily in 
debt. Have you paid all the money you owed ? 

Andrews. Not half of it, sir. 

Hopper. No; I thought not. You were in my debt for 
two months' rent. I forgave you ; took you into my 
employ; paid your wages in advance; and in this very 
room you took off your rags, and put on decent clothes, 
purchased with my money. (Rises.) Now if you 
wish to leave my employ, you are at perfect liberty to 
do so. But, understand me — you must return the 
money I have advanced to you ; you must pay me that 
two months' rent, and take off those clothes. 

Andrews (rising). But I — 1 have spent the money you 
gave me, sir. 

Hopper. So much the worse for you. Come — you must 
decide now. My man will give you the bundle of rags 
you left here, and you may go. (A pause.) Well? 

Andrews (hesitating). I scarcely know, sir. 

Hopper. Very good. (Strikes the call bell, which is upon 
the table.) I have no time to waste. If poverty is 
pleasant to you, I am sure you are welcome to it. 
(Enter ]erry, i..) Jerry 

Andrews (i?iterrupti??g). Oh, sir, I'll do it. Whatever 
you want, sir. I couldn't stand seeing my wife starve. 

Hopper. There is no reason why you should. (To Jerry.) 

Jerry — a Tell Mr. Skinner I wish to see him. 

He is in the sitting-room. 

Jerry. Yes, sir. 

(Exit, R.) 
30 



THE RECKONING 

Hopper. Now, my good fellow, do your work faithfully, 
and you will find it to your advantage. You may go 
now and renew your search. When Mrs. Henderson's 
house is unoccupied, I will notify you, and then your 
family can move in. 

Andrews (Jiumbly). Very well, sir. 

(^Exitj L.) 

Hopper (Jaughmg). It isn't very difficult to know how to 
manage a man who has undergone the suffering and 
distress of poverty ; he never cares to repeat the ex- 
perience. 

(^Goes to table c. ; sits and writes.) 

(^Enter Skinner, r.) 

Skinner {after pause). You wished to speak to me, sir? 

Hopper. Yes. When were you in Hopperton last ? 

Skinner. A week ago yesterday. 

Hopper. The factories were running — full time ? 

Skinner. You know better than I do, sir. 

Hopper, Yes, I was out yesterday. 

Skinner (aside). I wonder what in the deuce he's driving 

at. 
Hopper. Skinner, here is a note I have written to Mr. 

White, my manager, ordering him to make a ten per 

cent, reduction on the wages of all hands employed 

Skinner {surprised). Sir! 

Hopper. The reduction to go into effect the first of next 

month. 
Skinner. I wouldn't, if I were you. 
Hopper. Why? 
Skinner. The men will strike. 
Hopper. Nonsense. One-half of the carpet manufacturers 

in the country have done this; the other half have 

closed their mills entirely. 
Skinner. No doubt, no doubt. 
Hopper. I must have money. 
Skinner. You'll lose money if you are not careful. 
Hopper. Why should I? To save is the best way to earn 

in these times. I wish you to take this note to Mr. 

White to-day. 
Skinner {taking note). Just as you say, sir. 

3^ 



THE BECKONING 

Hopper. And now you had better go, and close with Smith 

& Co., for that lot of cotton, at once. 
Skinner. Right. 

{Exitf L.) 

Hopper. I fear I have made a great mistake in trusting so 
much to that man. But it is too late now. I will 
either make a fortune in this cotton venture, or lose 
one. 

{Enter Mrs. K., r.) 

Mrs. K. {gnyly). Well — have you time to talk business 
now, Mr. Hopper? 

Hopper {rising and going to meet her). My time is always 
entirely at your service. I have been just overrun this 
morning with beggars, and 

Mrs. K. {interrupting). 1 hope you imply nothing per- 
sonal ? 

Hopper. You know I do not, Mrs. King. I referred to a 
woman who came here — begging for help to find her 
daughter. 

Mrs. K. {interested). Had she — had she lost her? 

Hopper. Yes — the girl ran away from home. 

Mrs. K. Ran away ! Poor girl — I pity her. 

Hopper. Why should you? If she has suffered she de- 
serves it. 

Mrs. K. {sadly). Yes, she deserves it. 

Hopper. The girl is probably dead long ago. 

Mrs. K. If not, perhaps she would be far better off to be 
dead. {Resumes her gaiety.) But this is not talking 
business, is it? I wish to ask your advice about mak- 
ing an investment. 

Hopper. Ah ! May I ask the amount that you wish to in- 
vest? 

Mrs. K. About forty thousand dollars. 

Hopper. You couldn't make it fifty? 

Mrs K. Why should I? 

Hopper. Well, I know a — a mortgage — a first-class one in 
the country; but I — I don't think I could let — I — I — 
mean I don't believe you could get it for less than fifty 
thousand. 

Mrs K. Well, money is very scarce nowadays, you know. 

Hopper {aside). I am sorry to say I do. 

32 



THE BECKONING 



Mrs. K. But if you think this investment is safe 

Hopper {interrupting). Perfectly so; perfectly. It's gilt 
edged — but 1 — 1 will have to attend to it for you. The 
owner of the property is anxious his name should not 
be mentioned in the matter. The only way to make 
this investment would be through me. I — I will col- 
lect the interest from my friend quarterly and pay you, 
just as if {Hesitates.') 

Mrs. K. As if I had lent the money to you. 

Hopper. Exactly. 

Mrs. K. (rising). Well, I will consider the matter. 

Hopper {rising). You are not going ? 

Mrs. K. Don't you think my visit has been long enough 
for one day ? 

Hopper. No. But you will come again ? 

Mrs. K. Perhaps — about business. 

Hopper. And can I never talk of anything else ? 

Mrs. K. What could be more interesting ? 

Hopper. You. 

Mrs. K. The subject would become monotonous, don't 
you think ? 

Hopper {passionately). Never. Oh, why are you always 
so distant and reserved ? 

Mrs. K. Ami? 

Hopper. You are perfectly indifferent to me. 

Mrs. K. (coyly). Perhaps I only seem so. 

Hopper {eagerly). And you will not always be so cold ? 

Mrs. K. Yes — here. 

Hopper. Not everywhere? 

Mrs. K. I did not say so. 

Hopper {seizing her hand and kissing it passionately). 
You are an angel 1 (Enter Armstead, l.) I adore 
you ! 

{Again kisses her hand. Mrs. K. sees Armstead, and 
snatching her hand from Hopper, stands embarrassed. 
Hopper glares at Armstead angrily, ") 



CURTAIN 



33 



ACT II 

SCENE. — A room in Mrs. H.'s cottage in Hopperton, 
Mrs. H. discovered reclining upon lounge down r. 
Miss Sarah Hopper stands by table c, taki?tg fruit 
from basket, 

Mrs. H. Won't you take a seat, Miss Hopper? Please do. 
Sarah. Thank you ; 1 can stay but a very few minutes this 

morning. I just dropped in to bring you this fruit ; 1 

thought you might enjoy it. 
Mrs. H. You are very thoughtful and kind, Miss Sarah ; 

every one is good to me. 
Sarah. And you will be well enough to go out again very 

soon, 1 feel sure. 
Mrs. H. Never. 
Sarah {cheerfully). Oh, yes, you will. Why, you are 

looking better to-day than you have for a week. I no- 
ticed it as soon as I entered. 
Mrs. H. Yes ; I feel better and happier than I have for 

many a year, but it is because my mind and heart are 

free from suffering ; not my body. 
Sarah. And what is it that has acted so like a medicine? 
Mrs. H. Good news, ma'am ; good news. I have heard 

{Stops abruptly.) 

Sarah. From your daughter? Oh, Mrs. Henderson! 

(Mrs. H. does not answer. A slight pause.) Is she 

alive? Have you found her? 
Mrs. H. {hesitating). I — I can't tell you what I have 

heard, ma'am ; I — I am sorry — but — but please don't 

ask me, I mustn't tell you. 
Sarah {pleasantly). Please do not feel that I wish you to 

tell me if you would rather not. 
Mrs. H. But you have been so good to me, Miss Sarah. 
Sarah. That is no reason why I should know all your joys 

or sorrows. There are some things that cannot be told. 

{Rises.) And now I must be going. My brother has 

34 



rUE RECKONING 

been away from home for a month, and he return? 
to-day. 

Mrs. H. {startled). To-day 1 

Sarah. Yes, this morning. Perhaps you would like him 
to come and see you ; I will 

Mrs. H. {excitedly). No, no, Miss Sarah. Don't let him 
come; please don't let him. 

Sarah {surprised). You do not wish to see him? 

Mrs. H. 1 — 1 ask your pardon, Miss Sarah, if Ihave said 
anything 1 shouldn't. I — I didn't mean any harm, but 
— but you won't ask Mr. Hopper to come to-day? 

Sarah. Certainly not, if you do not care to see him. You 
had better take a little nap. Something has excited 
you — perhaps I have been here too long, and so wearied 
you. 

Mrs. H. Oh, no, indeed, ma'am. 

Sarah. I must go now, at any rate. {Takes up basket.) 

Mrs. H. But you will come again ? 

Sarah. Oh, yes — very soon. But good-bye, for the present. 

Mrs. H. Good-bye, Miss Sarah, and thank you very much 
for all your kindness. {Exit Sarah, l. c.) It does 
seem very ungrateful, but I fear she would tell Mr. 
Hopper, and 1 don't want him to hear — at least not 
until I know what is best to be done. {Draws the 
letter from under the pillow-cushiotiy and kisses it.) 
Just to think — after all these years ! and she is coming 
home — coming home to-day ! {Again kisses the letter.) 

McLain {without). Whoa, boy ! 

Mrs. H. Dr. McLain ! 

{Hurriedly hides the letter under the pillow-cushion.) 

{Enter McLain, l. c.) 

McLain {standing in doorway). Good-morning, Mrs. 
Henderson. {Looks out l. c.) Whoa, boy ! Stand 
still now. Whoa! {Comes down c.) It's a little 
risky to leave a horse unhitched, but I've put him upon 
his honor. {Places his hat upon table c.) 

Mrs. H. So good a master ought to have an obedient 
horse, sir. 

McLain. Now, none of your taffy, Mrs. Henderson. You 
must be better. I always think when my patients begin 
to flatter me tlxat they are well on the road to recovery. 

35 



THE BECKONING 

Let me feel your pulse. (^Feels Mrs. H.'s pulse.') 
Hum ! a little too high. Anything been exciting you, 
eh? 

Mrs. H. Oh, no, sir; I — 1 {Hesitates.) 

McLain {i7iterrupti7ig). Who has been here this morning ? 

Mrs. H. No one but Miss Sarah Hopper, sir. 

McLain. I scarcely think she is to blame. Have you 
been taking your medicine regularly ? 

Mrs. H. Yes, sir ; at the time you directed. 

McLain. Hum ! Mrs. Henderson, 1 want to have a talk 
with you — a very plain talk. {Draws up chair by 
sofa, down r., and sits.) I think you would prefer me 
to speak openly, rather than to conceal what is best for 
you to know. 

Mrs. H. Certainly, sir. 1 think I can guess what you 
wish to speak about. I know that I am dying. 

McLain. Oh, no, no, Mrs. Henderson — not so bad as that 
— not nearly as bad. Why, 1 hope to see you consid- 
erably better in a few days — but it depends entirely 
upon yourself. 

Mrs. H. How? 

McLain. There must be no more excitement of any kind. 
Ever since that hemorrhage last week, I have been 
afraid of another — and another might — might 

{Hesitates.) 

Mrs. H. Kill me ? 

McLain. To be perfectly candid, yes. 

Mrs. H. {quietly). 1 have felt so. 

McLain. Then you must take especial pains to obey my 

instructions. No excitement, you understand ? if you 

hadn't gone to town a month ago 

Mrs. H. {interrupting). But, Doctor, I couldn't stay at 

home. 
McLain. But it did you harm. You caught cold, and 

this is the result. It did you a great deal of harm. 

Has Mr. Hopper been here recently ? {Rises.) 
Mrs. H. {shortly). No. 
McLain. Perhaps he is still away from home. But he will 

visit you soon after his return — I feel sure of it. When 

I called upon him in New York, he said — well, he led 

me to suppose that he takes a great interest in you. 
Mrs. H. {pointedly). He does. I don't doubt it. 

36 



THE BECKONING 

McLain. But then that is nothing unusual with him. He 

is so kind. 
Mrs. H. {bitterly — half aside). Kind ! 
McLain. And so generous. 
Mrs. H. {aside). When it forwards his interests. 

{A knock is heard L. c.) 

McLain. Some one is knocking, I think. I will be your 
man servant if you will allow me. ( Opens door. Speaks 
off.) Why, Miss Margaret — good-morning. {As if 
answering a question.) Yes, for a little while. You 
are not likely to excite her. 

{Enter Margaret and Armstead, l. c.) 

Margaret {to McLain). Let me introduce Mr. Armstead, 

Dr. McLain. 
McLain {shaking hands with Armstead). I am glad to 

know you, sir. 
Margaret {going to Mrs. H., r.). Good-morning, Mrs. 

Henderson ; please don't get up. 
McLain {to Armstead). Seems to me I have met you 

somewhere before, sir. 
Armstead. I think you called at Mr. Hopper's one day 

while I was there, about a month ago. 
McLain. In New York? 
Armstead. Yes. 
McLain. Are you the gentleman who was examining some 

papers ? 
Armstead. The same. 
McLain. I thought I had seen you before. 
Margaret. Mr. Armstead, this is Mrs. Henderson. 
Mrs. H. You will excuse me for not rising, sir? 
Armstead. Certainly ; I would not wish you to do so. 

{Draws up chair by sofa, and Joins in conversation with 

Mrs. H.) 

McLain. Miss Margaret {Beckons her l. Aside, 

to Margaret.) May I ask a favor? 
Margaret {aside, to McLain). Certainly, Doctor. 
McLain. Don't stay long. 
Margaret. No, only a very few minutes. 
McLain. Mrs. Henderson is quite feverish to-day, and the 

quieter she remains, the better. 

37 



THE BECKONING 
(McLain and Margaret converse together ^ l.) 

Mrs. H. (Jo Armstead). And is this the first time you 
have been in Hopperton, sir? 

Armstead. Yes. I have come out to see Mr. Hopper 
upon business. 

Mrs. H. {as if disappointed). You are in his employ ? 

Armstead. Oh, no, I am a lawyer. 

Mrs. H. {interested and pleased), A lawyer ! 

McLain {crossing to R.). Well, friends, 1 must be moving 
on. {Takes his hat fr 0771 table c.) I'll call again this 
afternoon, Mrs. Henderson. ( Chances to look out of 
window R. F. ) By Jingo ! There goes my horse walk- 
ing quietly down the road. Evidently I have stayed 
too long. Good-bye all ! Good bye ! (Exit, L. c, 
crying to horse.) Whoa, boy ! Whoa ! 

Mrs. H. (to Armstead, earnestly). You say you are a 
lawyer, sir? 

Armstead. Yes. 

Mrs. H. (eagerly). Perhaps — perhaps you could 

(Stops) 

Margaret. I think we had better be going, Mr. Armstead. 

(Armstead rises.) 

Mrs. H. Oh, sir, please stay for a few minutes longer. 
I — I want your advice about — about something. (To 
Margaret.) You won't object, will you. Miss Mar- 
garet ? 

Margaret. No, but I fear Dr. McLain would not approve. 

Armstead. It will not be best to weary you. Some other 
day when 

Mrs. H. (interrupting). No, no, sir; I must speak to you 
to-day — this morning. It will do me no harm. It will 
benefit me, I am sure of it. 

Armstead (aside, to Margaret). There seems to be 
something upon her mind. 

Margaret (aside y to Armstead). Yes — perhaps you had 
better remain. 

Armstead (to Mrs. H.). If I can do anything for you, 
Mrs. Henderson 

Mrs. H. Then you will stay? Thank you very much. 

Margaret. Good-bye, Mrs. Henderson. (To Armstead.) 

38 



THE BECKONING 

I will see you again before you return to the city, Mr. 

Arm stead ? 

Armstead. I hope so. 

{£xi/ Margaret, l. c.) 
(Armstead sits by sofa r.) 

Mrs. H. Miss Margaret and her aunt are very good to me 

and — and {Hesitates.) Are you intimate with 

the family, sir? 

Armstead. 1 know Miss Margaret quite well. 

Mrs. H. (aside). Perhaps I should not ask him what I 
had intended. {To Armstead.) Is Mr. Hopper a 
friend of yours ? 

Armstead. No. 

Mrs. H. (eagerly). You do not like him ? 

Armstead. Oh, 1 did not intend to imply that. I know 
Mr. Hopper but very slightly. 

Mrs. H. Mr. Armstead, you are a stranger to me, sir, but 
if you are Miss Margaret's friend, 1 am sure 1 can trust 
you. 

Armstead. I think you can. (A slight pause.) You 
said you wished advice. . 

Mrs. H. I am greatly in need of it, sir. 

Armstead. Legal advice ? 

Mrs. H. Yes, sir. I — I scarcely know how to tell you. 
But — but suppose I — had invented something and 
made an agreement with — with some one that he could 
manufacture it, provided he paid me a certain amount 
upon every sale. And suppose he broke the agree- 
ment 

Armstead. Well ? 

Mrs. H. Couldn't he be compelled to pay me? 

Armstead. That would" depend. 

Mrs. H. Upon what, sir? 

Armstead. Several things. But have you made such an 
agreement with any one? 

Mrs. H. No, sir, not exactly. 

Armstead. Mrs. Henderson, I must ask you to speak 
openly if you wish my help, for not knowing the whole 
truth, I might advise you wrongly. 

Mrs. H. Well, sir — I will tell you everything. My hus- 
band invented a certain kind of carpet a year or two 

39 



THE RECKOmNQ 

before his death and made an agreement with — with 
Mr. Hopper 

Armstead (surprised). Mr. Hopper! 

Mrs. H. Yes, sir. He was to manufacture the carpet in 
his factories, and pay my husband something on every 
sale. 

Armstead. And didn't he do it ? 

Mrs. H. Only up to the time of my husband's death. 

Armstead. Perhaps the agreement expired then. 

Mrs. H. Oh, no, sir; it was to continue with the heirs. 

Armstead. And Mr. Hopper has never paid you any- 
thing? 

Mrs. H. Not one cent. 

Armstead. H'm ! But you have the agreement, of 
course. 

Mrs. H. I can't find it, sir. 

Armstead. It has not been lost ? 

Mrs. H. I — I do not know where it is. 

Armstead. Are you sure such a paper exists ? 

Mrs. H. Oh, yes, sir. My husband showed it to me, 
and during his last illness he told me that he had 
hidden it in a safe place and that I would find it after 
his death. 

Armstead. It will be necessary to find that agreement, 
Mrs. Henderson. 

Mrs. H. Can nothing be done without it ? 

Armstead. Very little — unless your husband patented his 
invention. 

Mrs. H. I think he did, sir. 

Armstead. You are sure? 

Mrs. H. Perfectly. 

Armstead. Then Mr. Hopper has been using a process 
that does not belong to him, and can be made to pay 
heavy damages. 

Mrs. H. I — I would not wish to injure Miss Sarah or 
Miss Margaret in any way. They have been very 
kind to me — but Mr. Hopper has been very cruel. 

Armstead. Cruel ! 

Mrs. H. I used to consider him a generous and kind- 
hearted man, but now I think him kind only when it 
meets his selfish interests. My daughter left home 
about ten years ago, sir. She was not a bad girl, but 
she could not endure poverty, and she was very fond 

40 



TEE RECKONING 

of gaiety — far too fond, her father thought, and he was 
very severe with her. I had waited patiently for ten 
long years, but I felt that I could wait no longer. I 
heard that my daughter had been seen in New York, 
and I resolved to go to the city, and make a search. 
But I was poor. The money my husband had saved 
was all spent, and I was even in debt. Then, in my 
distress, I thought of Mr. Hopper. I went to the city 
with the purpose of seeing him. I told him that I was 
ill ; I told him how my heart bled for my dear child ; 
and I entreated him to help me make a search. 

Armstead. And he refused ? 

Mrs. H. Yes. Then I begged him to lend me money, 
and mentioned the agreement he had made with my 
husband. And he — he called me a beggar — a liar, 
and ordered me from the house. 

Armstead. I can scarcely believe it possible. 

Mrs. H. It is true ; every word of it. 

Armstead (aside). The hard-hearted hypocrite ! 

Mrs. H. He has a very good reason for not wishing my 
daughter to be found ; but though he has refused to 
help me, heaven has had pity and answered my 
prayer. 

Armstead. Have you heard from your daughter? 

Mrs. H. Yes— at last ! 

Armstead. Indeed ! I am very glad. 

Mrs. H. I received a letter in which she begged for my 
forgiveness — as if I had anything to forgive. And she 
is coming home. I wrote her a long reply, telling her 
how I had longed all these years for her, and about her 
father's death, and his business agreement with Mr^ 
Hopper. But I did not send the letter, sir ; for I re- 
ceived a second one from her saying that she was com- 
ing home — (half aside) coming home to her poor old 
mother. (Takes the letter from under the pillow.) 
Here it is, sir — read what she says. 

Armstead (taking the letter, looks at the address and 
starts). Is — is this your daughter's handwriting ? 

Mrs. H. Yes, sir, that is May's letter. 

Armstead (surprised). May ! 

Mrs. H. That is my daughter's name, sir. 

Armstead (eagerly). INIay ! May what? 

Mrs. H. She married a Mr. King. 

41 



TEE BECKONING 

Armstead (rising and letting the letter fall^. King ! 

May King I 
Mrs. H. What is the matter, sir? 

Armstead {controlling himself ). Pardon me — I — I — sus- 
tained a — a slight shock. 
Mrs. H. Do you feel ill, sir? 
Armstead. Oh ! 1 am all right now. {Picks up letter?) 

You wish me to read this letter? 
Mrs. H. If you please, sir. 

Armstead {after reading letter^. She is coming home to- 
day. 
Mrs. H. Yes, sir; this morning, on the New York train. 

Oh, if only 1 had been well enough to meet her at the 

station. 
Armstead. Would you — would you like me to go? 
Mrs. H. You are very kind, sir. 1 — I did not wish Mr. 

Hopper to know of my daughter's return — at least, not 

until we had planned for the future. 
Armstead. Yes, it will be best to keep it a secret for 

a while, if possible. 
Mrs. H. And you will meet her ? Perhaps you had better 

go now. 
Armstead. Yes, I want to be at the station when the train 

arrives, and it is about due, 1 think. 
Mrs. H. Go out that way by the kitchen door — {pointing 

out R.) there is a short cut to the station through the 

woods. 
Armstead. Very well, and I shall return the same way. 

{Goes toward r.) 

Mrs. H. But — but, Mr. Armstead, how will you recog- 
nize my daughter? 

Armstead. Oh, I shall know her. {Aside.) I fear I can 
never forget her. 

{Exit, R.) 

Mrs. H. Coming home ! I can scarcely realize it. Com- 
ing home ! Heaven is very good to me. Oh, how 
much I have to be thankful for. (Hopper looks in at 
window, then knocks at door L.) Was that a knock ? 
{The knock is repeated.) Wlio's there? {Enter 
Hopper, l. c. Mrs. H. , aside — agitated.) Oh ! 

42 



TEE BECKONINQ 

Hopper. Good-morning, Mrs. Henderson ; good-morning. 
incomes down c.) 

Mrs. H. (aside). What if he should remain until my 

daughter comes ! 
Hopper. How has your health been ? Pretty good ? 
Mrs. H. {shortly). No. 
Hopper. Indeed 1 I am extremely sorry to hear it. {^A 

pause.) Has a gentleman named Armstead been here? 
Mrs. H. He is gone. 
Hopper. Gone ! Strange I did not meet him on the road. 

Margaret told me that she had left him here. 1 have 

been away from home for about a month, and have just 

returned. Has lie been gone long ? 
Mrs. H. No. {Eagerly. ) Perhaps you can overtake him 

if — if you go. 
Hopper. Perhaps I can. No doubt he has returned by 

some other way. I will hasten back again. 

{Goes up toward i.. c.) 

Mrs. H. (aside). He is going. 

Hopper {stopping). Oh, by the way, Mrs. Henderson, 
while away 1 have been thinking about — about the mat- 
ter you mentioned to me a month ago. I refer to the 
agreement you imagined I had made with your husband. 

Mrs. H. {eagerly). You acknowledge there was such an 
agreement? 

Hopper. Oh, no, no — not at all; such an idea is ridicu- 
lous. But you are sick and greatly in need of money, 
and I would like to assist you. Dr. McLain tells me 
that you should go away to the mountains somewhere. 
Of course this claim you have made is entirely without 
foundation, but 1 am willing to pay you say five hun- 
dred dollars if you will sign this paper 

( Takes paper from his pocket. ) 

Mrs. H. I will sign no paper. 

Hopper. Eh ! 

Mrs. H. Your anxiety to have me sign a paper proves 

that an agreement between you and my husband did 

exist. 

43 



THE RECKONING 

Hopper (angrily). It's false ! 

Mks. H. My claim is a just one, and you know it. 

Hopper {passionately). 1 know it's a lie ! 

Mrs. H. {half rising — intensely), Nicholas Hopper, you 

are a scoundrel 

Hopper. What ! ! ! 

Mrs. H. An unprincipled hypocrite. 

Hopper {^furiously). How dare you ! 

{Raises his fist as if to strike her.) 

Mrs. H. Strike me ! Strike me, you coward ! You have 
wounded my heart far more than you can ever injure 
my body. 

Hopper. Bah ! 

Mrs. H. May heaven treat you as you have treated me ! 
{Rises and becomes fnore and more vehement and ex- 
cited.) May you suffer even as you have made me 
suffer. 

Hopper. Stop ! 

Mrs. H. May your deceitful tongue, with which you make 
promises only to break them 

Hopper {interrupting). Tliat will do — I 



Mrs. H. May your lying tongue be struck dumb ! 

(Yiovv'E.R, frightened and furious, utters an exclamation^ 
and crumpling the paper ivhich he holds in his hand, 
hurls it into Mrs. Yi.'^ face. Mrs. H., tremendously 
excited, utters a cry, and raising her hand to her chest 
as if in great pain, falls back upon the sofa, where she 
lies motionless.) 

Hopper {furiously). You refuse to do what I wish? — 
Good ! I have offered you comfort — and you chose 
poverty. You shall have your choice. You shall 
leave this house this very day. You owe me rent ; pay 
it — or go to jail. I'll make you suffer for your curses. 

{Exit, L. c.) 

{A long pause.) 

{Enter Mrs. K., r. Pauses and looks around the room 

eagerly.) 

44 



THE RECKONING 

Mrs. K. {seeing Mrs. H. upon the sofa r., cries joyfully). 
Mother ! {Runs to sofa.) Mother, I have coine home. 
She is asleep, but I cannot wait. 1 must awaken her. 
{Kneels beside the sofa.) Mother, dear — mother ! 
Speak to me. Mother! Tell me you forgive me. {Enter 
Armstead, r.) Mother ! Mother ! ! Mother ! 1 1 



CURTAIN 



45 



ACT III 

SCENE. — The study in Akmstead's Ne7v York residence, 

(^Enter Armstead, r., opening a letter.'^) 

Armstead. It is not very often Miss Margaret Hopper fa- 
vors me, and when she does it is generally a request of 
some kin(i. Well, I could not ask for a stronger proof 
of her friendship. {Sits by fireplace L., and reads the 
.letter — after pause.') Short, but to the point. I am 
afraid this will prove a rather delicate matter to handle. 
Henry Stratton is not a boy, and I doubt very much if 
he will relish my criticism. I scarcely think I would 
enjoy it — {thoughtfully") and yet — and yet — if, when I 
was his age, some one had pointed out to me the dan- 
gers that lay in my path, perhaps I might have avoided 
them. (Reads from the letter.') *M will try to find 
some excuse to call upon you on Wednesday" — that's 
to-day — "and will bring Harry with me. Then if you 
will detain him in some way, I will leave and you can 
talk with him alone. I am sure Harry will gladly tell 
you his troubles if he is at all encouraged. Please help 
him for both our sakes. I know you can." {Folds 
the letter and pockets it.) Hum ! That's very flatter- 
ing to my talents, at any rate. Miss Hopper is cer- 
tainly quite a schemer. (Rises.) Well, I'll try to 
carry out my part of the program. I must sustain my 
reputation. 

(Enter Barney, c.) 

Barney. Be yez to hum, sor? 

Armstead. Unless your eyes deceive you, Barney. 

Barney. Me eyes got nothin* to do with it, sor — beggin' 
your pardin. I've larnt to put me eyes in me pocket, 
fur many's the toime at me last place I seen Mr. Brown 
was to hum an' he sent word to the door that he was 
out. At me last place, sor, I've sometimes won- 
nered 

Armstead {interrupting). Is there any one to see me, 
Barney ? 

46 



THE RECKONING 

Barney. Sor ? 

Akmstead. Is any one at the door ? 

Barney. Not thot I knows on, sor. (^Goes to window r.) 

Armstead (aside). He's one of the dumbest men J ever 

saw. 
Barney (offer looking out of the window). No, sor, there's 

no one at the door. As I was sayin*, at me hist 

place 

Armstead (interrupting). Is any one down-stairs ? 
Barney. Sor? Down-steers? 
Armstead. Yes ; to see me. 

Barney. There was some man, sor, but 

Armstead. You didn't tell him I was out? 

Barney. No, sor, I didn't want to lie. I said ye was in, 

but I didn't know if ye was to hum, an' if he didn't 

keer to wait 

Armstead (interrupting). Is he here now? 

Barney. Faith, I don' know, sor, but 

Armstead {interrupting). Barney, go down and send the 

gentleman here immediately. 
Barney. He be-ent a gentleman, sor. 
Armstead (angrily). I don't care if he's a chimpanzee; 

send him up. 

Barney. Yis, sor, but 

Armstead (interrupting). Go; do you hear? 

Barney. Yis, sor, I hears. (Aside.) I'm afeard this 

place won't fit me. 

(Exity c.) 

Armstead. I am afraid he won't fit this place. How he 
managed to keep his last position so long, I can't im- 
agine. Why, he will sour my temper in less than a 
week ; it's beginning to turn now. (Andrews appears 
c, and hesitates. To Andrews.) Come in, sir. 

{Enter Andrews, c.) 

Andrews. I — I don't want to take your time, sir, but 

Armstead (^pleasantly). Oh, I am not busy. 

Andrews. Miss Margaret Hopper advised me to come to 

you, sir, 
Armstead. Indeed ! 

47 



TEE BECKONING 

Andrews. I wanted to speak to you about — about Mrs. 
Henderson, sir. 

Armstead (interested). Mrs. Henderson ! You mean the 
poor woman who died in Hopperton a couple of weeks 
ago? 

Andrews. Yes, sir. Has she any heirs ? 

Armstead. Why do you ask ? 

Andrews. Because — because I've found a paper that be- 
longed to her husband, sir, an' — an' I wanted it to get 
into the right hands. 

Armstead. But I don't quite understand. Where did you 
find this paper? 

Andrews. At the house she used to live in, sir. It was 
hid away in the wall back of a picture. 

Armstead {aside). Can it be the paper that Mrs. Hen- 
derson told me about? {To Andrews.) Do you 
occupy the house now ? 

Andrews. Yes, sir. Mr. Hopper told me I could have 
the house — which is quite a large one — at the same 
rent I paid for the house I was livin' in, provided I — 
provided — {hesitating) I don't know as I ought to tell 
you, sir. 

Armstead. I don't ask to know your agreement with Mr. 
Hopper. 

Andrews. I have no agreement now, sir. Mr. Hopper 
employed me to — to — I think I had better tell you 
everything. 

Armstead. Do just as you think best. 

Andrews. He paid me to make a search for Mrs. Hen- 
derson's daughter May, who had run away from home 
about ten year ago. 

Armstead {stcrprised). Mr. Hopper made a search ? 

Andrews. Yes, sir. 

Armstead {aside). I don't understand that. {To An- 
drews.) Why did he wish to find Mrs. Henderson's 
daughter ? 

Andrews. I don't know, sir, I'm sure. I was very poor 
an' had been out of work for some time, when Mr. 
Hopper sent for me an' offered to pay me good wages 
an' forgive me two months' rent I owed him, if I would 
do what he wanted. Of course, I was glad of the 
chance. After I had been workin' about a month, he 
told me that Mrs. Henderson was goin' to move, an' 

48 



THE BECKONINO 

that I could take her house if I wanted to. He said 
that just as soon as I moved in he wanted me to make 
a thorough search of the premises, an' any papers I 
found I was to bring to him. 

Armstead (aside). I begin to understand now, 

Andrews. I told him 1 didn't want to bring him papers 
that belonged to Mrs. Henderson, an' he became very 
angry an' insisted that I should bring him everything I 
found. He said if I refused he would turn me an' my 
family out in the street, an' make me pay every cent I 
owed him. I — I was a coward, sir, an' had to give in, 
for I couldn't bear to think of my wife an' children 
starvin'. 

Armstead. Then why have you come to me ? 

Andrews. Because my conscience made me, sir. Mrs. 
Henderson nursed my wife when she was sick. 

Armstead. I am glad that you have felt so conscientious 
in the matter. 

Andrews. I can't help thinkin' that this paper is the one 
Mr. Hopper wanted to find. It is some kind of agree- 
ment he made with John Henderson. 

Armstead. Ah ! Have you it with you ? 

Andrews. Yes, sir. (^Cautiously.) But — but had Mrs. 
Henderson any heirs ? 

Armstead, Yes; one. 

Andrews (eagerly). Her daughter ? Is she alive ? 

Armstead. I am glad to say she is. 

Andrews. Thank heaven ! Does she know of her mother's 
death, sir? 

Armstead. Yes, and it was a great shock. She came — 
she had determined to return home, but too late. 

Andrews. Poor girl ! 

Armstead. I am sure that she will be very thankful to you, 
and will see that you do not suffer for want of work. 

Andrews. Thank you, sir. 

Armstead. I can give her this paper, if you wish — or 
would you prefer to keep it until you can deliver it in 
person ? 

Andrews. No, sir; I feel sure it will be safe with you. 

(Takes envelope from his pocket and gives it to Armstead.) 

Armstead. Very well. (Places the envelope in the table 

49 



TEE BECKONINQ 

drawer.^ Now if you will give me your name and 

address 

Andrews. Joseph Andrews, sir. 

Armstead (rising). Suppose you sit down here, and write 

it for me. 

(Andrews sits at table l. c, and writes. Armstead goes 

to window R.) 

Andrews. There, sir. 

Armstead (^looking out of the window). Hello ! Here 

comes Mr. Hopper up the steps now. 
Andrews {agitated). Oh, sir, 1 — 1 don't want to meet 

him. 
Armstead. No, it will not be best for him to find you 

here. {Points r.) Step into that room until he goes. 

{Exit Andrews, r. Armstead closes the door after hifn ; 
theft goes to table L. C, takes the paper tipon which 
Andrews has written his naine— folds it and puts it 
ifi his pocket.) 

{Enter Barney, c.) 

Barney. Be yez to hum, sor? 

Armstead. Yes ; show Mr. Hopper here. 

Barney {amazed). Y-yis, sor. {Aside.) How does he 

know the gint's name? 
Armstead. And, by the way, Barney, if there should be 

any other callers this afternoon, you may send them 

up. I shall be at home until further notice. You 

understand ? 
Barney. Yis, sor. 

{Exit, c.) 

Armstead. I took him by surprise that time, but I am 
afraid I will be kept busy manufacturing surprises if I 
want to keep his tongue quiet. I suppose Mr. Hopper 
has come to see me in reference to the note I sent him 
yesterday. {Eiiter Hopper, c. To Hopper.) Good- 
aflernoon, sir. 

Hopper {appearing luorried). Mr. Armstead, I called to 
see you about the mortgage on my property. 

Armstead. You received my note? 

Hopper. Yes ; but it will be impossible for me to wait 

50 



TEE BECKONING 

until next week for the money. Seventy-five thousand 
dollars may not mean much to the gentlemen you rep- 
resent, but at the present time such a sum would prove 
immensely valuable to me. I must have a check to-day. 

Armstead. But, Mr. Hopper, that will be impossible. 

Hopper. I must have it. 

Armstead. You know that to transfer stocks and bonds 
into cash takes longer than a few hours. 

Hopper {sharply). If you hadn't the money, why did you 
offer it to me ? I have some notes which I must meet 

to-morrow, or — or {Decidedly?) Armstead, you 

must raise this money. 

Armstead. I understood that you were borrowing in order 
to extend your business. 

Hopper {embarrassed). Yes, yes — so I — I am — I intend 
to. But I — I must free myself from debt first. 

Armstead. I fear I cannot help you. You had better 
look elsewhere. 

Hopper {excitedly). Man, I'm depending on you. Go to 
these gentlemen and explain matters. No doubt they 
have funds at hand from which they can draw. 

Armstead. They are away from the city 

Hopper {interrupting). Then telegraph them. 

Armstead {coldly). I'll do it if you wish, but it is useless. 

Hopper {interrupting). Yes, do it immediately. Every 
minute is of value. 

(Armstead sits at table c. and writes. Enter Skinner, c, 

hurriedly.) 

Skinner {to Hopper). You told me to bring all telegrams 
here, sir. {Gives Hopper the telegram.) 

Hopper {tearing open telegram, reads and utters an excla- 
mation ; speaks to Skinner). Smith & Co. offer an- 
other lot of cotton. 

Skinner. No doubt, no doubt. 

Hopper {to Skinner). I can't buy it. 

Skinner. Just as you say. 

Hopper {to Skinner). Telegraph them that I can't — no, 
say that I don't want it. 

Skinner. Right. 

Hopper. And — and ask them to extend my notes for — 
no, I'll attend to the matter myself. {To Arm- 

51 



THE RECKONING 

STEAD.) You will send me the reply to your telegram, 
as soon as you receive it, Mr. Armstead ? 

Armstead. Certainly, 

Hopper. Make them raise the amount somehow. I must 
have it. 

{Exit, c.) 

Skinner (aside). I'm afraid the bottom of his corner in 
cotton is weakening. 

{Ex iff c.) 

Armstead (rising). Hopper certainly seems to be badly 
in need of money. 1 must make some inquiries before 
he gets any through me. What a scoundrel the man 
is! (^Goes r. and calls.) Andrews! (Enter An- 
drews, R.) Mr. Hopper has left, so you can go now 
without any danger of meeting him. 

Andrews. Very well, sir. 

Armstead. I will let you hear from me in a day or two. 
When I appoint a time and place to meet me, you will 
come ? 

Andrews. Certainly, sir. 

Armstead (offering hitn his hand). Well, good-bye until 
you hear from me. 

Andrews. Good-bye, sir, and thank you for helpin' me. 

(Exit, c.) 

Armstead. I think I should thank him for helping me. I 
promised to send this telegram, and I will. After that, 
we'll see. (Calls.) Barney! I had better put the 
paper Andrews brought in some safer spot than a 
table drawer. (Opefis table drawer and takes out 
envelope. Calls.) Barney! Where is that man ? 

(Enter Barney, c.) 

Barney. Yis, sor. 

Armstead (giving him telegram). Barney, take this mes- 
sage to the telegraph office, and tell them to send it 
immediately. (Goes toivard r.) 

Barney. Sind it where at, sor? 

Armstead, They will know at the office. 

Barney. Yis, sor, but 

52 



THE RECKONING 

x'Vrmstead (inter rupfiftg). Now, don't stop to argue. 

Barney. But, Mr. Armstid, sor 

Akmstead {ifiterrupting). Go at once ; do you under- 
stand ? 

Barney. Y-yis, sor. (Exit Armstead, r.) Well, I 
niver seen the loikes o' thet. Here's comp'ny down- 
steers, an' whin I'm after axin' 'im if he's to hum he 
shuts me mouth loike a trap an' sets on me. Sure an' 
I don't know whither he's to hum or not. Faith, I'll 
jist fitch the comp'ny here an' lave 'em, an' if he's 
not to hum, he kin till 'em so hisself. 

(Exit J c.) 

(Enter Armstead, r.) 

Armstead. I never saw that Irishman's equal for dumb- 
ness. I believe he would talk himself bhnd asking 
questions, if I encouraged him by answering one or 
two. (Enter Margaret and Henry, c. To Marga- 
ret.) Why, Miss Hopper, this is a very pleasant sur- 
prise — I mean it would be if I — I — oh, you understand. 
(To Henry.) How do you do, Mr. Stratton ? You're 
just the man I wish to see. 

Henry. I am, sir ? 

Armstead. Yes ; about — about a little matter of business. 

Margaret. Then I — I will leave him here and 

Armstead (interrupting). Oh, don't be in a hurry. Miss 
Hopper. 

Margaret. But, I called only to — to (Hesitates.^ 

Armstead. To see me, of course. 

Margaret. Yes — to — ask if a man has been here. 

Armstead. By the name of Andrews ? 

Margaret. Yes. Evidently you have seen him. 

Armstead. He left but a few minutes ago. 

Margaret. He came to me and appeared very anxious to 
learn something about Mrs. Henderson's relatives — 
if she had any — and I thought that possibly you may 
have learnt something during the confidential talk 
you had with her the day of her death, so I advised 
him to go to you. 

Armstead. I am very glad you did. 

Margaret. I — I must be going now. (To Henry.) 
Harry, will you meet me at the station ? 



THE RECKONINQ 

Henry, Yes — when ? 

Margaret ingoing up c). In time for the five o'clock 

train. 
Henry. Very well, I'll be there. 
Armstead (^following Margaret up c). I won't detain 

him very long, Miss Hopper. 
Margaret {aside to Armstead). You are very kind — to 

— detain him at all, sir. 
Armstead {aside to Margaret — laughing'). Oh, you 

little schemer ! 
Margaret {aside to Armstead). It's in a good cause. 

Good-bye. 

{Exit, c.) 

Armstead {coming down c). Are you in business, Mr. 

Stratton ? 
Henry. No, sir. 

Armstead. Studying for a profession ? 
Henry. No, sir. 

Armstead. A man of leisure, eh ? {Sits.') 
Henry. I have tried to obtain some business position, sir, 

but have failed. {Sits.) 
Armstead. Are you particular as to the nature of the 

employment? 
Henry, No, sir ; I would be only too glad to get anything 

— but it is useless to try. 
Armstead. Oh, don't be discouraged. 
Henry. But, sir, I — you do not know — it is absolutely 

necessary for me to earn money, and — and 

{Hesitates.) 
Armstead. You are in debt ? 

Henry {as if ashamed). Yes, sir. {A slight pause.) 
Armstead. Mr. Stratton — I think it will be best for me to 

be perfectly honest with you. I have heard of your 

need of money and your 

Henry {interrupting). Has Margaret told you? 

Armstead. Yes. 

Henry. She should not have troubled you. 

Armstead. I am very glad she took the trouble to tell me. 

Do you know that you are a very fortunate young man 

to have this sweet girl take such an interest in you? 
Henry. Far more fortunate than 1 deserve. 

54 



THE RECKONING 

Armstead. Whatever may happen you know that there is 
some one in the world who loves you : some one who 
will sympathize in your disappointments and rejoice in 
your successes. (Sighs and half aside.) Ah, how 
happy a man could be with such a woman to love ! 
(Quickly — as if to check his sad thoughts.) Yes, yes 
— you are fortunate, truly fortunate. Mr. Stratton, I 
think I can help you. 

Henry (eagerly). Do you know of a position, sir? 

Armstead. Yes. 

Henry. And can I obtain it ? 

Armstead. I think so. 

Henry. You are very kind. 

Armstead. Not at all. I know a wealthy man who wishes 
a private secretary. I will recommend you, but whether 
you will retain the position or not, will depend entirely 
upon yourself. 

Henry. But — but you know nothing about my habits, sir. 

Armstead. Of gambling ? 

Henry. Did Margaret tell you of that too? 

Armstead. Yes. 

Henry. I am almost ashamed to confess it, sir. 

Armstead. Perhaps — perhaps you had a good excuse. 

Henry. I was driven to gambling through want of money. 

Armstead. But now that you will be able to earn a com- 
fortable salary, you will give up what injures you, won't 
you, my boy? For your own sake and for the sake of 
the girl who loves you ? 

Henry. I promise you, sir. 

Armstead. Thank you. I believe your promise to be as 
good as your oath. And now in order that you may 
be able to cut entirely loose from everything that binds 
you to your old habits, we must pay your debts. (Sits at 
table and opens check book.) How much do you owe? 

Henry (quickly). I — I couldn't let you give me the money, 
sir. 

Armstead. Oh, I don't intend to make you a gift ; but I 
would like to lend you the amount. 

Henry. But, sir 

Armstead (interrupting). We will do the thing in a busi- 
nesslike way, if you prefer. I will give you a check, 
and you can give me your note. 

Henry, It is very good of you 

55 



THE BECKONING 

Armstead. No — I consider it an opportunity to help a 
friend, and I am glad to avail myself of it. How much 
do you need ? 

Henry. About one hundred and forty dollars, sir. 

Armstead {writing check). " Henry Stratton — one hun- 
dred — and — fifty " 

Henry. Forty, sir. 

Armstead. I added ten for luck. There you are. 

{Gives Henry the check.) 

Henry. But the note ? 

Armstead. Very well, I will write one for you. ( Writes 
a note and gives it to Henry, who takes a pefi, signs 
the note and returjis it to Armstead.) Now every- 
thing has been done lawfully and in order. You have 
borrowed money and given your promise in writing to 
return it six months after date. Of course if you do 
not pay me, you will expect to be prosecuted? 

Henry. Certainly, sir. 

Armstead. This paper you have signed would give me that 
right. 

Henry. But I will pay you. 

Armstead (rising). Of course you will. (^Tears in pieces 
the note Henry signed.) And even if you do not, I 
shall not prosecute you. (^Goes to fireplace,!..) When 
a man lends money to his friend, he should not wish 
any other promise of payment than a verbal one. 
(^Throws the pieces of paper in the fireplace, L.) Surely 
that ought to be enough. 

Henry (rising). I — I wish you knew how much happier 
you have made me, sir. 

Armstead (embarrassed). I — I — but (^Coughs , then 

looks at his watch.) Hello! I had no idea of the 
time. If you wish to meet Miss Hopper at the five 
o'clock train, you will have to hurry. 

Henry. Is it so late as that ? 

Armstead. I am sorry to have to acknowledge it. I will 
write you just as soon as I see the gentleman I told 
you of. 

Henry. Let — let me thank you, Mr. Armstead, for all you 
have 

Armstead (interrupting). No ; all thanks belong to Miss 

S6 



THE RECKONING 

Margaret. {They go toward o,. Enter Mrs. K., c.) 
Mrs. King ! 

Mrs. K. I do not wish to intrude. 

Henry. I was just about to leave, Mrs. King. (To Arm- 
stead, grasping him by the ha?id.') Good-bye, Mr. 
Armstead. 

(^Exit, c.) 

Mrs. K. (aside'). I scarcely know what to say. 

Armstead. I — I expected to — to call upon you this even- 
ing, Mrs. King. 

Mrs. K. Upon me? 

Armstead. Yes ; to — to — about a matter of business. 

Mrs. K. (disappointed). Oh ! 

Armstead. 1 — I wished to see you — about a paper that I 
have that concerns you. 

Mrs. K. Nothing more ? 

Armstead. I — 1 know of nothing else. 

Mrs. K. Perhaps I should expect no more — and yet 

(Earnestly.) Oh, if you knew how I long for a friend, 
some one to advise and help me. 

Armstead (after slight pause). If you had returned 
home 

Mrs. K. (interrupting). Yes, yes ; I know what you 
would say. 1 should have returned years ago. But I 
thought she was dead — you know that ? I never should 
have left my home — I realize it now — now when it is 
too late; but the yearning for power which has so 
cursed my life, and the dread of poverty, tempted me. 

Armstead. You have gained the power you sought. 
(Quietly.) 

Mrs. K. (sadly). Yes ; the power that wealth brings ; but 
not the power to make true friends. I — I come to you 
to confess my weakness, and to ask for help — but you 
— you will never forgive me. 

Armstead (with an effort — after pause). What is it you 
wish ? 

Mrs. K. (easterly). You vi^ill help me? I want advice 
about the matter you told me mother had talked to you 
about the last day of her life. 

Armstead. You mean the agreement between your father 
and Mr. Hopper ? 

57 



THE RECKONING 

Mrs. K. Yes. 

Armstead. The paper has been found. 

Mrs. K. Found ! 

Armstead. Yes, by the man who now occupies the house 
where your mother hved. 

Mrs. K. Then it is true that there was such an agreement? 

Armstead. Yes. 

Mrs. K. And Mr. Hopj)er never paid my mother the 
money that was rightfully hers. (^Rises — passionately.^ 
Oh, how I hate him ! To tliink of all the suffering 
dear mother endured ! To think that it was within 
this man's power to add comfort — yes, even years — 
to her life, and he refused to help her ! I wish 1 could 
make him suffer all that she had to bear ! 

Armstead. You wish for revenge ? 

Mrs. K. Revenge? {A pause.') No. I, too, wronged 
my mother, by leaving her. But — but I wish to take 
from Mr. Hopper every cent that he stole from her. 
{Sits.) 

Armstead. Why should you wish tlie money? 

Mrs. K. Just for this. If I can obtain the money that 
rightfully belonged to mother, I will make it a memorial 
to her, and use it in helping poor women that have no 
friends. I am sure she would like that. 

Armstead. Has Mr. Hopper any suspicion that you are 
Mrs. Henderson's daughter? 

Mrs. K. Not the slightest. 

Armstead. But he knew that you were at the funeral. 

Mrs. K. Yes ; but I went with Miss Ho|)per and Margaret, 
and they did not imagine the truth. Margaret had 
asked me to spend a few days with her that week, so 
that my presence in Hopperton at the time of mother's 
death was not a surprise. 

Armstead. But you paid all the funeral expenses, did you 
not ? 

Mrs. K. Oh, yes; but they thought I did it simply out of 
respect to the memory of a poor woman. The day 
after the funeral I returned home, and since then have 
refused to see all callers. During these two weeks I 
have carefully considered the matter, and now I wish — 
I am determined that Mr. Hopper shall know who 
I am. But — but 1 need a friend to advise me. {Plead- 
ingly.) Will you not be that friend? 

S8 



THE BECKONING 

Armstead. I would gladly help you — if — if {Hesi- 
tates.') 
Mrs. K. If you believed me to be sincere? 
Armstead. Candidly — yes. 
Mrs. K. (sadly). 1 have no way to prove my sincerity. 

{A pause.) 

Armstead (rising). The paper found in your mother's 
house has been brought to me. I have it in the other 
room. 1 will show it to you. 

(^Exity R.) 

Mrs. K. (bitterly). He will not forgive me. Oh, if I had 
but appreciated the value of an honest man's love, I 
might have become a true woman. My life would have 
been of some use, and instead of thirsting for power — 
the power to bring men to my feet, 1 might have made 
them my friends. But it's too late now ; it's too late. 
In the whole wide world there is not one being who 
loves me — no, not one. 

(^Enter Hopper, c, hurriedly. Perceives Mrs. K., and 
stops, surprised.) 

Hopper. Mrs. King ! You here ? 

Mrs. K. (aside). The man I have been trying to avoid. 

Hopper. I have just come from your house. Why is it 
that you have refused to see me every time that 1 have 
called ? 

Mrs. K. I have not wished to see — any one. 

Hopper. But you have taken no notice of my letters. You 
know that I adore you, and yet you are as cold as ice. 
Have you no heart ? 

Mrs. K. (coldly). I don't know. Certainly none for you, 
Mr. Ho|)per. 

Hopper. Oh, come, it's too late for that tune. You know 
1 can make you happy. (Passionately.) 1 cannot live 
without you. Will you marry me — at once ? To-day ? 

Mrs. K. (decidedly). No ! 

Hopper. Yes, you will. Come, let's end our dilly-dally- 
ing over it. You promised to marry me. Why not 
now ? Come I 

59 



THE BECKON I NO 

Mrs. K. {indignantly). Promised to marry you ? Never! 
Hopper Qaiighin^). Oh, you remember it well enough. 

Why, you little rogue ! (^Attempts to embrace her.) 
Mrs. K. {breaking free). How dare you ! 

(^Enter Armstead, r. Stops in doorway.) 

Hopper. What ! You pretend you don't care for me? 

Mrs. K. I hate you ! 

Hopper (^puzzled). You hate me? 

Mrs. K. (^pointing to c). Leave me instantly ! Go ! 

Hopper. You cannot mean 

Mrs. K, {interrupting — vehemently). Go, I say 

Hopper. But — but I 

Mrs. K. {interrupting). Not another word — go ! {Exit 
Hopper, c. She bursts into tears and throivs herself 
in armchair c.) Oh, have I fallen so low ! So low 
that he should dare to insult me ! Oh, that I had one 
true friend ! 

Armstead {advancing to armchair — earnestly). Mrs. King 
— May — I will be that friend. 

Mrs. K. {eagerly). You ? 

Armstead {giving her his hand). As far as it lies within 
my power. 



CURTAIN 



€o 



ACT IV 

SCENE. — The sitting-room in Hopper's country-seat. 
Jerry discovered^ dusting. 

Jerry. He's got somethin* on his mind. I never seen 
him act so curious like afore. Why, he can't set still 
a minute, an' fiery — whew ! I'm dead afeared to go 
near him. If he'd had a gun handy, I believe he would 
have filled me full of holes hours ago. (^Goes to table 
L. c, and begins to dust it J) Just look at that table 
now. Everything down side up. 'Tain't no use for 
me tryin* to keep things straight if Mr. Hopper is goin' 
to act so crazy like. 

{Enter Hopper, l., with hat and coat. ^ 

Hopper {snappishly). Jerry ! (Jerry starts and drops 
the dusting-brush on the table.) Leave those things 
alone ! 

Jerry. Y-yes, sir, I — I was just 

Hopper {interrupting). Hold your tongue! 

Jerry. Y-yes, sir. 

Hopper. Has Mr. Skinner arrived yet ? 

Jerry. No, sir. {Aside.) That's the third time he has 
asked me that question this mornin'. 

Hopper {looking at his watch). Why in the deuce doesn't 
he come? {To jERRy.) Jerry, I am going to the 
station. If any one calls, say that I will return shortly. 

Jerry. Certainly, sir. {Exit Hopper, c.) Holy smoke ! 
but I'm glad he hasn't got no gun about him. I'm 
afeared he ain't just right in his head; leastways he 
don't act it. 

{Enter Margaret and Henry, r.) 

Margaret. Yes, Harry, I am very much worried about 
father; he is certainly not at all well. (Jerry goes 
tip c.) Jerry ! 

Jerry. Yes, ma'am. 

Margaret. Miss Sarah wishes to see you. 

6i 



THE RECKONING 
Jerry. Very good, ma'am. 

(^Exitf R.) 

(Margaret mid Henry sit upon sofa down r.) 

Henry. Uncle appears very anxious about something. 

Margaret. Perhaps he has received bad news. 

Henry. He may have heard something when he was in 
the city yesterday. I never saw him so restless and 
excited as he was last evening. 

Margaret. He has so much to worry him. 

Henry. Yes, far too much. 

Margaret. Poor father ! 

Henry {impulsively). I wish he were poor. 

Margaret. Why, Harry ! 

Henry. I know it is selfish — perhaps unmanly in me to 
have such a wish, but — but Margaret, when I think of 
my poverty as compared to the wealth you will inherit, 
I feel as if I had no right to care for you. 

Margaret. Perhaps you think I have no right to care for 
you? 

Henry. I have often wondered why you do. 

Margaret. Why ? 1 scarcely know. Perhaps because 
you care for me. But, Harry, you know that whether 
you are wealthy or poor, it makes not the slightest dif- 
ference to me. And now that you have made your 
start 

Henry {interrupting). Yes, thanks to you and Mr. Arm- 
stead. 

Margaret. You will be independent. 

Henry. And I shall try to prove worthy of Mr. Arm- 
stead's kindness. 

Margaret. He has indeed been very kind. 

Henry. He said that all thanks belonged to you, and that 
I was very fortunate to have such a sweet girl to take 
an interest in me. 

Margaret {laughing). I fear he was trying to flatter. 

{Enter Hopper, c. Henry and Margaret rise.) 

Hopper (;/<?/ perceivift^ them and goi?ig to table l. c). No 
telegram yet. I'll make Skinner smart for this. 

62 



THE RECKONING 



Margaret {appro achijjg). Father, dear, are you feeling 



111? 



Hopper {shortly). No. 
Margaret. Can I do anything for you ? 
Hopper. Yes ; don't bother me. 
Margaret {reproachfully). Oh, father ! 
Hopper. Mind your own business. 

(Margaret begins to cry.) 

Henry (aside, to Margaret). Don't cry, Margaret. 

Uncle is greatly worried about something. Don't cry. 
Margaret {crying). Yes, yes, he is worried. He does 

not know what he is saying. 
Henry. Come, I think we had better leave him. 

{^Exeunt Margaret and Henry, l.) 

Hopper. It's very strange that I have heard nothing. I 
especially instructed Skinner to telegraph me the first 
thing this morning, and to come out on an early train. 
Perhaps he is waiting for a reply from Smith & Co. 
They certainly must consent to extend my notes. It 

will be to their advantage. If they refuse, then 

{^Frantically.) Oh, this suspense will drive me crazy ! 
Why doesn't he come? {Goes to window l. c. and 
looks out — a pause — coines down C.) Everything seems 
to be united to ruin me. Companies in which I have 
largely invested are failing; interests and dividends 
that I have counted upon have been passed ; and now 
this strike in my carpet mills. What fools the men 
are ! They prefer no wages rather than accept a reduc- 
tion. Very well — let them starve ! {Goes to wifidow 
L. c.) Why doesn't Skinner come? He has led me 
deeper and deeper into these speculations, and now 
that I am in over my depth, he leaves me to drown. 
He doesn't appear to care whether I am ruined or not. 
Why doesn't he keep me posted ? {Goes to table l. c.) 
I'll telegraph him and learn the trouble. {Sits at the 
table and opens a book of telegraph blanks. Uncon- 
sciously knocks the duster, which Jerry left on the 
table, into scrap basket right of table. Enter Jerry, c., 
with telegram. Hopper, eagerly.) Well, what is it? 
A telegram ? 

63 



THE HECKONJNQ 

Jerry. Yes, sir. 

Hopper. Give it to me, quick ! 

{Snatches telegram from Jerry and tears it open.') 

Jerry (aside). I wonder where I put that duster? 
Hopper (is about to read telegram^ but notices Jerry). 

Well ! What are you standing there for ? 
Jerry. I — I was wonderin* if (Hesitates.) Is there 

an answer, sir? 
Hopper (angrily). No, you idiot. 
Jerry (scared). Y-yes, sir. (Aside.) He's crazy, 

sure. 

(Exity c.) 

Hopper (reading telegratn and starting — with emotion). 
What ! Smith & Co. refuse to extend the notes ! 
(Tears the telegram into pieces. Litensely.) It will 
ruin me ! By heaven, it will ruin me ! I aimed so 
high ; I have struggled so hard for power and now — 
now when success is almost within my grasp, it has 
burst like a bubble. I shall be laughed at. My ac- 
quaintances will shun me. Boys will point after me in 
the street. (Vehemently.) Never! Never! {Opens 
the table drawer — hesitates ; then closes the drawer.) 
Were I but sure that there is nothing after death. I have 

tried to believe so all my life, but now Bah ! I 

am a coward. (Opens the table drawer and takes out 
a revolver.) Why should I hesitate? (Takes a box 
of cartridges from the table drawer and loads the re- 
volver.) One should be sufficient ; but two will make 
sure. I wish I could put the first shot into the brain 
of the woman who has brought me to this. I have 
risked everything for her sake. Fool that she has made 
me ! I thought that by acquiring great wealth I could 
compel her to love me, but she — curse her ! — she 
spurned me as though I had been a dog. To-morrow 
— where will I be to-morrow? My failure will be dis- 
cussed in the exchange and on the street corners. 
"Nicholas Hopper has failed." Failed! No: by 
heaven ! not while there remains the slightest chance 
of saving myself. I shall fight until every hope is gone, 
and then — (pointiftg to the revolver) this will end all. 

64 



THE RECKONING 

(Puts the revolver in the table drawer.') But what is 
to be done? If I could pay Smith & Co. part of my 
indebtedness, no doubt they would give me a couple 
of months to raise the balance. {Sits at table l. c.) 
Forty thousand dollars would settle two of the smaller 
notes. Forty thousand dollars ! (^Leans his head 
thoughtfully upon his hajid. Suddenly appears to be 
struck with an idea, and springs to his feet.) Ah ! 
Margaret's money ! Why haven't I thought of it be- 
fore? But — but I have no right to touch that. Why 
not? It is lying idle, locked up in the Depositors' 
National Bank. She would not object. I will borrow 
it — yes, and pay her interest. It is the only thing that 
can save me. If I could use it — I shall ! Luckily it 
is still entered in my name. (Searches for check book.) 
I'll draw a check and take it to town by the next train. 
Where is the book? (^Opejis the table drawer and 
searches.) Perhaps it is in my room. (Goes R.) 
I'll win the fight yet, and even should I chance to lose, 
I have a medicine which will cure all my ills. 

(Exit, R.) 

(Enter Jerry, c. Cautiously.) 

Jerry. He's not here — thank goodness ! I wonder where 
that duster is? I was sure I dropped it on the table. 
(As if struck with a sudden idea.) Gee Will ikens ! 
Perhaps the gov'ner found it. I — I'd be afeared to 
ask him — he'd make me swallow it. If only I knew 
where he put it. Maybe — maybe it's in the table 
drawer; but no, that ain't likely. You can't tell what 
a crazy man would do with a duster, though. I — I've 
got half a mind to look. (Looks out doors R. and L.) 
Yes, I'll do it. (Tiptoes to table — stealthily opens the 
draiver. Sees the revolver and springs back, fright- 
ened.) A — a — a — gun 1 as sure as shootin' ! A genu- 
ine gun ! (Carefully takes up revolver.) Loaded up 
to the muzzle, too. (Examines it.) No, there's only 
a couple o' shots in her. I reckon he guessed he'd 
wing me with one an' finish me with t'other. But 
he'll have to guess again. (Draws out cartridges and 
pockets them.) I ain't a-goin* to let him do nothin'; 
he'd be sorry for it. (Puts the revolver in drawer.) 



THE RECKONING 

Hullo, a box of cartridges. I'll gobble them. (^Puts 
box in pocket.) There. He can shoot all he's a mind 
to, now. It won't hurt nobody. Well, dog me cats, 
if there ain't my duster in the scrap basket. 

(Stoops and takes the duster out of the basket. Enter 
Hopper r., with check book.) 

Hopper {sharply). What are you doing there, you 

rascal ? 
Jerry {frightefied). N-nothin', sir. (Hopper walks 

rapidly toward table l. c.) By Jingo ! He's after 

the gun. {Makes a dash toward c.) 

{Enter McLain and Margaret, c. Jerry ru7is into 

McLain.) 

{Exit Jerry, c.) 

Margaret. Father. 

Hopper {turning — sharply). Well? What now? 

McLain. Good-morning, Mr. Hopper. 

Margaret. Father, Dr. McLain has come to — we thought 

that — that you might wish to — to see him 

Hopper. Eh ! 

McLain. Mr. Hopper, I'm told you have had several 

severe headaches lately 

Hopper {sneeringly). Oh, they've told you that, have 

they ? 
McLain. Your sister and daughter sent for me, hoping 

that I might be able to persuade you to undergo a 

treatment 

Hopper. Indeed ! Very kind in them, I'm sure. 
McLain. You know, Mr. Hopper, that when the blood is 

driven to the head in moments of excitement 

Hopper {interrupting). There is danger of a vessel burst- 
ing. I have heard all that before. 
McLain. You do not seem to realize what the consequences 

might be. 
Hopper. Yes, I do. Death. 
Margaret. Oh, father ! 

McLain. If you wish the truth, Mr. Hopper 

Hopper {interrupting — angrily). Do you think I wish a 

lie ? You come here and attempt to frighten me with 

66 



THE BECKONING 

your nonsense. You try to weaken the strength of my 

will, and the activity of my mind at a time when I 

need them the most. 
Margaret. Oh, father, control yourself. 
Hopper. You hope to bring me within your power by 

your lies, so that you can enjoy a living at my expense. 
McLain. Mr. Hopper, sir ! 
Hopper [furiously). But you will never receive another 

cent from me. Not one cent. You sneaking leech ! 
McLain. Sir ! 
Hopper. Now, go ! Go ! Do you hear ? 

{Points to door c. ) 

McLain. I do. And I shall never enter this house again. 
Hopper. See that you don't. 

{Exit McLain, c.) 

Margaret. Oh, father, father ! {Cries.) 

{Exit, c.) 

{Enter Armstead, c. Hopper sits at table L. c. Without 
perceiving Armstead, ) 

Armstead. Good- morning, Mr. Hopper. 

Hopper {turjiing). Oh, it's you. {Eagerly.) Well, 

what do your friends say ? Have you the money ? 
Armstead. No. 

Hopper. Then what are you here for? 
Armstead. To see you about another matter. 
Hopper. I have no time this morning. I am going to the 

city by the next train. 
Armstead. The next train does not leave for an hour. 

The business is of great importance, both to you, and 

to 

Hopper {interrupting). Be quick then. What is it? 
Armstead. I made an appointment with — a — a resident 

of your town to meet me here this morning 

Hopper. He has not come. 

Armstead {quietly). He's in the next room. 

Hopper {snappishly). AVho is he? What does he wish 

with me? Why don't you tell me your business in- 

67 



THE RECKONING 

stead of being so mysterious? What's the man's 
name ? 

Armstead. Robert Andrews. 

Hopper {surprised). Andrews! 

Armstead. I understand he has been in your employ. 

Hopper. Well ? What if he has ? 

Armstead. You employed him to search for Mrs. Hender- 
son's daughter who ran away from home ten years ago. 

Hopper {agitated). It's false — and even if it were true, 
what business is it of yours ? 

Armstead. I will answer that later. You offered Andrews 
the house where Mrs. Henderson lived upon condition 
that he would search the premises and bring you any 
papers he 

Hopper {interrupting). He lies ! What would I wish 
with any of Mrs. Henderson's rubbish ? 

Armstead. Then you take no interest in the matter? 

Hopper. No. Why should 1? 

Armstead. I am sorry, for a paper has been found 

Hopper {ititerrtipting — alarmed). Found! W-w hat pa- 
per? 

Armstead. A paper that will prove of considerable value 
to Mrs. Henderson's heirs. It is an agreement John 
Henderson made with 

Hopper {interrupting — agitated). I — I never made such 
an agreement. It's a forgery ! A scheme to extort 
money from me. 

Armstead {quietly). The courts can decide that question. 
That this agreement is in existence upon paper, there 
is no doubt. 

Hopper. I do not believe it. 

Armstead {going to c, calls). Andrews ! 

{Enter Andrews, c.) 

Armstead. Andrews, Mr, Hopper is inclined to doubt 
that a paper was found in the house Mrs. Henderson 
used to occupy. 

Andrews. I — I found the paper myself, sir. 

Hopper. His saying so proves nothing. 

Armstead. I have the paper. 

Hopper. Bah ! 

Armstead. It bears your signature. 

68 



THE RECKONING 

Hopper. Eh ? A forgery, 

Armstead. And the signature of a witness who still lives. 

Hopper. What ? A — another forgery. 

Armstead (^quietly). I also have another paper. (^Takes 
paper from his pocket?) Here it is. This was found 
at Mrs. Henderson's the day of her death. (Hopper 
utters an exclaiiiatioii?) You tried to force her to 
sign away her right to royalties under that agreenaent, 
but she refused, and the handwriting on the paper bears 
witness against you. You must confess, Mr. Hopper — 
that 

Hopper {inter ruptiiig). I confess nothing. This is a case 
of blackmail, nothing more. You hope to frighten me 
into purchasing these papers from you. Oh, you have 
made your plans very prettily. Well, how much do 
you want ? 

Armstead. Nothing. We have come to see you that jus- 
tice is done to Mrs. Henderson's daughter. 

Hopper. Daughter ! {Laughs.) Why, man, she's dead 
long ago. 

Armstead. She is not only alive, but she is here in this 
house. 

Hopper {greatly agitated). It's a lie ! 

Armstead {controlling himself). Andrews, will you 
kindly call her? 

Hopper. Mrs. Henderson's daughter ! What does this 
mean, sir? 

{Exit Andrews, c. ) 

Armstead. Now, Mr. Hopper, you wish to know why 1 
interest myself in what appears to be none of my busi- 
ness. I will tell you. It is because Mrs. Henderson's 
daughter is my friend, and I am her legal adviser. 
She is no stranger to you. You will recognize her as 
the lady upon whom you have forced your attentions. 

Hopper. What ! Why, confound you, sir ! 

{Threatens Armstead. Enter Mrs. K., c.) 

Armstead. The woman you insulted in my house. 
Hopper {perceiving Mrs. K.). Mrs. King ! 

69 



THE BECKONING 

Armstead. Yes, Mrs. King, and the daugliter of the poor 
woman you so cruelly wronged. (^A pause.) 

Mrs. K. I do not come here as the woman whom you pro- 
fessed to admire; nor as the woman whom I admit for 
a time permitted your attentions. No, I am lieartily 
ashamed of that woman. I come — not as May iving — 
but simply as Mrs. Henderson's daughter. 

Hopper {excitedly). So you — you have been deceiving 
me? You — for whom 1 have risked fortune and repu- 
tation. {Furiously.') Why — I — I could kill you. 

(^Goes toward Mrs. K., l., threate?iingly.) 

Armstead {stepping between Hopper aiid Mrs. K.). Con- 
trol yourself, sir. 

{Enter Skinner, c, out of breath.) 

Hopper {perceiving Skinner — hurrying toward him). 
What news? Why haven't you telegraphed? Quick ! 
Why don't you answer? 

Skinner. Smith & Co. are unloading all their cotton on 
the market. 

Hopper. What ! {Staggers to table l. c. Supports him- 
self.) Let them ! So shall I ! But my notes? 

Skinner. But — but your notes are due to-day. 

Hopper {excited). Yes, yes. I know, I know. But I 
can meet them — two of them, and they will extend the 
others ; I am sure they will. Here's a check — a 
check for fifty thousand dollars on the Depositors* 
National 

Skinner. Eh ? It is not worth a cent. 

Hopper. What ! The bank hasn't — it hasn't 



{Hesitates.) 

Skinner. The Depositors' National has failed. 

Hopper. Failed ! 

Skinner. Right. 

Hopper (intensely). Then I am ruined. 

Skinner. No doubt, no doubt. 

Hopper {bursting into hysterical laughter). Ha — ha — ha 
— ha — ruined ! Ha — ha — ha — ruined ! Not one cent 
1 can call my own, ha — ha — ha — not one cent ! {Furi- 
ously, to Mrs. K.) You — you vixen. 

70 



THE RECKONING 

Armstead (sternly). Mr. Hopper ! 

Hopper (Jo Mrs. K.). You think to live to gloat over my 
ruin — but you shall not. (Ope7is the table drawer and 
takes out revolver.) You shall die ! (Aims revolver 
at Mrs. K. and pulls the trigger. Mrs. K. screams. 
Hopper utters an exclamatioti and pulls the trigger 
again — theft, wild with rage, he raises the revolver to 
hurl at her. Armstead aiid Skinner spring upon 
him.) Let me go ! Let me go, I say. I'm no crimi- 
nal. Let me go ! I have never wronged a human 
being; I swear it. If I lie, then by heaven, may I 
never speak again ! ( With a mighty effort he throivs 
Armstead and Skinner aside aiid again raises the 
revolver to hurl at Mrs. K. ) Oh ! my head ! {Lets 
the revolver fall. Reels and is supported by Skinner.) 
My head ! M-m-y-y 

(Speaks incoherently and is supported by Skinner and 

Armstead, l.) 

(Exeunt Skinner and Hopper, l.) 

Armstead (gravely). It is a stroke of paralysis. Heaven 
has taken him at his word. 

Mrs. K. (who has fallen on sofa down r.). What a fear- 
ful judgment. And it's partly my fault. Yes, I have 
tempted him to be untrue to all his better instincts. 

(Sobs.) 

Armstead (at her side). No; you were but a little fool- 
ish. He was selfish and criminal. The fire of ambi- 
tion burnt within him, and he fanned the flame into so 
fierce a blaze that it consumed him. 

Mrs. K. Oh, I — I cannot remain among my old acquaint- 
ances. I must go away. 

(Rises a fid crosses to L.) 

Armstead. Why should you ? 

Mrs. K. I feel that I cannot live where I shall meet 
Margaret and her aunt. 

Armstead. Yet they may need your assistance. You 
have wealth — why not devote a portion of it to employ- 
ing the people of this village who are now so greatly 

7,1 



THE BECKONING 

in need ? I — I — your friends do not wish you to go 
away. 

Mrs. K. {smiling sadly). My friends ? I fear I have but 
one. You have proven yourself a true friend, and if 1 
could thank you 

Armstead (crossing to her, smiling). Why, I want no 
thanks. May, I beUeve I know you belter than you 
know yourself. You've been trying to spoil a noble 
woman, and you can't. You can't. She will come 
out in spite of you. 

Mrs. K. You — you really believe in me, after all ? 

Armstead. Believe in you? I have always believed in 
the real you. Ah, May, <' Something the heart must 
have to cherish, must love and joy and sorrow learn." 
We have both known the sorrow. Let us have the 
love and joy together. Shall we ? 

{Holds out arms to her.) 

Mrs. K. Yes — yes ! 

{She goes to him, and he takes her in his arms.) 



CURTAIN 



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